The Lady of Time: Coward
by sunkissedvampire
Summary: The story begins, racing and rampaging through the lands of Middle Earth, and Katelyn Jones is left to scramble after it in hopes of altering the future. Magic must survive in order for Earth to flourish and so she joins the Thorin and company on a mad dash to reclaim Erebor and hopefully change things for the better. Sequel to the Lady of Time: Dragon Charmer.
1. prologue

"Wake up, little one."

Her eyes opened, taking in the forest around her, green and healthy. Sun streamed in through the leaves, illuminating their veins, and sending shadows flickering across her warmed face. A breeze blew, bringing with it laughter.

How peaceful, she thought, relishing in the warmth. She had wished often that she could spend her days enjoying the weather in peace, with no thoughts or worries to trouble her. She wanted only to have peace. She felt whole and good under those trees, with no true identity, no idea of who she truly was or what she had to do. She lifted her hands to the sky, examining her smooth and pale flesh thoughtfully.

It was not to be though, for as she blinked again, the sun died away and the trees lost their healthy glow. They grew dark and demonic, their limbs reaching for her hungrily, and her heart turned cold.

This was not how it was meant to be. she dropped her hands to her side before pushing herself up into a sitting position, seeing the white dress she wore, now torn and dirtied beyond recognition.

The laughter died down into sorrowful sighs and she felt her body grow heavy and tired while her heart hammered away, cold and afraid. She could feel the forest watching her, hungrily awaiting the moment when she would slip up and allow her vigilance to falter, and then snatch her away. It would eat her alive, she thought, without a second thought. She could hear things moving among the dead branches and she hunched her shoulders against the danger.

She had failed. Everything had been destroyed by the darkness, it spread across the world and smothered all things light and good.

She let out a breath, watching as it spiraled out into the air in front of her and dropped her gaze to her clasped hands where they sat in her lap.

A warmth grew there, between her palms, and she scrunched her brows together in confusion.

Perhaps it was the ring? Comforting her in the only way it knew how.

"No, little one, look.

A voice echoed around her, kind and warm, and she searched about for its source before turning her eyes back to her clasped hands and ever so carefully opened her palms. Within her hands sat the smallest balls of light, glowing gently, defiantly, against the darkness hovering over her shoulder hungrily. She lifted her hands to her face and made out the smallest of figures sleeping within her hold, peaceful and ignorant of the evil sheltered from it by her hands.  
A little angel, she thought, for the creature had cherub like features and glittering wings.

"A fairy."

Warmth spread from her palms, up her arms, and across her body at the realization.

"You will be fine," the voice spoke again. "As long as they live there is hope."

"What are they?" she whispered, staring at the creature in awe.

"They are what makes the flowers grow, the birds sing, and the rain fall. They are everything."

"Why does no one know of them?" she voiced her thoughts, never having recalled reading of such a creature in Middle Earth.

"They have been hiding since the dawn of time," it answered in a hushed tone. "Now wake them."


	2. Chapter 1

Bilbo Baggins was a simple hobbit, as all hobbits were, and had at first been so opposed to the idea of an adventure that it was laughable. He would have no business with dwarves or wizards. He had gotten a taste of what it would be like that night in his home when they came, one after the other, stomping their muddy feet and eating all his food and he wanted no part in it. He liked his garden, and his pipe, and his nice comfy chair too much to give it all up for a bunch of strangers. He was a Baggins!

But then, he had been reminded, that he was also a Took.

Now he did indeed find himself on an adventure and while it had been fun and pleasant in the beginning, he was now sweaty and haggard, and trying to remember what exactly had been going through his mind when he decided to run after the dwarves.

"Ow! You are on my foot!"

"Sorry," Bomber mumbled apologetically.

Bilbo lifted his foot and rubbed at his toes before hurrying to catch up with the group. They had been shuffling through the small stone passage for several hours now and were growing quite irritable with the stuffy air. Or at least, Bilbo was. He would assume that the dwarves quite liked the caverns that they had been meandering through with little to no knowledge of where it led. He had had to adapt to the concept of not using an actual map to guide their way. Gandalf seemed to always know exactly where they were and would offer his guidance whenever needed but they were still blindly marching forward. They did have a map, of course, the one Thorin had tucked away within his coat, but he had yet to see the dwarf pull it out except for the first night in his home. He could be leading them anywhere. But it seemed that Bilbo was the only one to have this suspicion. Ever since the wizard had left that nasty mark on his door and invited a militia of dwarves into his home without his permission, well, he was not too fond of Gandalf these days to say the least. But he was enjoying himself, though he would never admit it, and he was determined to keep his unenjoying front for as long as he could. It was a matter of hobbit pride.

Gandalf was at the back of the group, keeping a watchful eye on the other fourteen members, and occasionally throwing a weary glance over his shoulder. He did not lead the way like usual; instead, it was Thorin who was prowling the passageway ahead like an agitated beast of prey. His shoulders were hunched and his fists clenched. Bilbo had begun to suspect that Thorin was growing irritable towards the wizard. But it was really none of his business, he decided, and only kept one ear and eye open to the two. He would only observe, after all, it wasn't like he was gossiping.

Up ahead, Thorin had stepped out in the streaming sunlight of late day, and halted. He did not speak as the others gathered around him and stared in quite stunned amazement that soon turned to volatile suspicion.

Bilbo was left to stand behind them and jump to get a view of what it was that had them in such a state.

"The Valley of Imladris. Though in the common tongue it is known by another name," Gandalf spoke as he joined the rest out in the fresh air.

Ahead of them, nestled deep within the steep valley, was a large house. It was intricate, with several separate wings connected by open hallways and tunnels, and gazebos sat upon every hill and rock outcropping available. Water cascaded from the cliff tops and fell, disappearing behind the home only after passing through the trailing sunlight and throwing glittering sparkles into the air. It was quite breathtaking.

"Rivendell," Bilbo whispered.

"Here lies The Last Homely House east of the seas," Gandalf continued.

The phrase "here lies" was too simple to describe how the house seemed to grow from the valley, bending the trees and earth around it in such a way that it appeared to have been there long before anything else in the valley, even the water itself.

"This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemies," Thorin rounded on the wizard, throwing his scathing accusation like a weapon itself and causing the wizard's brows to come crashing down together in irritation.

"You have no enemies here, Thorin OakenShield. The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself," Gandalf admonished. He leaned on his staff as if he were physically exhausted from dealing with the stubborn leader in front of him. Indeed he probably was. One could only take so much of dwarves before they required a break, perhaps that is why Gandalf is so often leaving them in the journey to come, but I am getting ahead of myself.

"You think the elves will give us their blessing? They will try to stop us," Thorin shot back.

"Well hello there."

All fifteen standing at the mouth of that cave turned to take in the figure mounted atop a dark horse and hidden behind a dark grey cloak. The horse had strolled up the path leading down into the valley and come to a stop not ten feet away from the group who had previously been watching the growing argument between Thorin and Gandalf like onlookers in a tennis match. It snuffled at a patch of grass careless of the growing tension around it.

"And who are you?" Thorin growled. He turned to face the new comer, his fingers inching towards the nearest weapon on his person. The rest of the dwarves followed his example, leaving Bilbo confused and flustered, must they be so ready to slaughter any who oppose them?!

The figure, who was casually seated atop their horse and smoking a pipe, pulled it from their mouth as if to speak but Gandalf pushed through the group, crying out "That is a friend!" and rested a hand on Thorin's shoulder as if to calm him. "Lady Tinusell, as the elves have dubbed her, to be exact," he added with a grateful smile towards the figure.

"Lady?" Bofur exclaimed.

Indeed, the figure was not wearing a dress under that gray cloak. In fact, they were wearing leather bracers, belt, riding boots and gloves over a maroon long sleeved tunic and black breeches. Every move she made was accompanied by the creaking of leather and clanking of some unseen weapon. The only feminine thing they could see about her was the long red wavy locks that spilled from the mouth of her hood like the waterfalls behind her.

"My name is Katelyn Jones," she said and pulled the hood from her head to reveal a lively smiling face. She would have been quite beautiful if it were not for the ghastly scars that marred her cheek and shoulders. "So this is where you have been for the past year, Gandalf? Following after a group of dwarves like a mother hen?" She laughed and slid from the saddle and hit the ground as lightly as any elf would.

"Hardly," Gandalf remarked with a lifted chin.

Katy smiled kindly and examined the group thoughtlessly but paused upon the smallest figure of them all. Bilbo himself.

Thorin was growing even more irritable but just as he had opened his mouth to say something no doubt rude the strange woman had pushed through the group to crouch in front of Bilbo with a wondrous smile upon her face.

"This is him?" she asked Gandalf. She had rested her hands on Bilbo's shoulders, looking him up and down, and making him feel quite uncomfortable. She did not bother waiting for the wizard to reply and instead grabbed one of his hands with both of hers, "You must be Mr. Bilbo Baggins, it is an honor to meet you." She held his hands so closely to her that the hobbit blushed and tried to stammer a reply.

"At your service," he squeaked.

"I should have known," Katy said as she stood strait and moved back towards her horse. "The year is just about right, isn't it?" She eyed Gandalf as she passed.

"I am afraid so," Gandalf replied and nodded. "I have led them here in hopes of finding some answers and maybe a little food and rest too." He looked a bit sheepish then, apologetic even, for leading a group of Dwarves and one Hobbit to Lord Elrond's door with no warning.

Katy grinned, "You are always welcome Gandalf, you know that," she assured. She reached for a saddle bag and stowed her pipe away inside it as she spoke. "You could lead all the free peoples of the world to his door step and Lord Elrond would welcome you with open arms."

"Yes, well, be that as it may, I know it is still rather rude of me," Gandalf explained as he stepped after her, lifting his robes from under his feet as he did.

The dwarves remained where they stood, watching the two wearily as their conversation took place, and itching to get a move on preferably in the opposite direction.

"Are you an elf then?" Bilbo asked from behind Thorin, stepping around the seething dwarf to follow in Gandalf's shuffling footsteps.

Katy turned to look at Bilbo with a shrug, "Technically no, but I've learned that in Middle Earth, technicalities don't count for anything." She patted her hair down around her ears to hide the points that had been sticking out before.

"How did you get those scars then?" Bofur questioned.

"Must you be so rude," Gandalf exclaimed, turning back to glare at the dwarf.

"I got them from a dragon," Katy said at the same time.

"You are the Dragon Charmer!" Fili exclaimed then. He pushed past his brother and out front of the group. For the past three years there had been rumor of a Dragon Charmer, someone that had gotten into the mountain and faced Smaug himself, and managed to escape. The original rumor had reached Balin years back and through him Thorin. The news sparked a small idea inside Thorin's head and had it not been for this he would never have agreed as Gandalf suggested, and attempt to take back the mountain. If someone could sneak into Erebor itself and face Smaug and survive then surely a group of trained, though the word was used tentatively, dwarves could do it without a doubt.

"The one and only," Katy agreed while puling herself back into the saddle. She situated herself and then turned to look at the group, "Are you hungry?" She would rather not dwell on her dealings with the dragon more than necessary. The experience itself had been horrible but when she looked back on it she was assaulted by sadness, not dread, and it bothered her so. She did not quite understand what had happened in that mountain three years back and though she tried she could not get the ring on her finger to spill its secrets. It had remained smugly silent since the night in Mirkwood.

They followed her down the path into the valley, the dwarves muttering suspiciously amongst each other, and Bilbo scrambling to keep pace with Gandalf who was walking just next to the woman. Bilbo was asking her every question about elves and Rivendell that came to his mind while they walked. He hardly gave her enough time to answer before shooting off the next question. She found it a strange sort of Deja vu for she would normally be answering very different kinds of questions. It was more than a bit refreshing.

Just behind the two Gandalf smiled satisfactorily.

"Are the elves nice? Is Rivendell as peaceful as they say? What was the dragon like?" The hobbit stammered.

"In that order: They are the kindest people I have ever met, too peaceful if you ask me, and I think that is a story best told over the dinner table." She responded with an endearing smile.

Bilbo blushed and shut his mouth, realizing that he had been pestering her, and turned to take in the view from the small bridge they were moving over. It led into a humble square populated by a handful of wandering elves and the evening sunlight. They all wore long trailing robes in rich colors that drew the eye and when they walked they slid across the ground after them in such a graceful way that Bilbo had to wonder if they were in fact spirits or some otherworldly creatures.

When they had all made it into the square Katy did not dismount, choosing to keep herself separate from them while she took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. Gandalf shot her a curious look, surprised by her sudden change in demeanor but was interrupted by an approaching elf. He descended the stairs in a deep plum colored robe of his own and when he reached the bottom he opened his arms in joyous welcome to the wizard.

"Mithrandir!" he called.

"Lindir! It is a pleasure," the wizard replied with his own smile.

Thorin leaned back, whispering Dwalin, "Stay sharp."

Dwalin nodded and sent a look to his brother who lifted a calming hand to appease. Balin seemed to be the only one of the group not inclined to disembowel any elf who gave him the wrong look. Katy wondered briefly if it was because of his age or if he was simply just wiser than the others. She eyed the dwarves curiously, for she knew of their quest very well, and was sizing them up. Wondering who was who and whether or not the outcome of their journey would follow the story in her time. She had been in Middle Earth for nearly ten years now, seven since she had officially left her old life behind, and three since she had escaped a dragon by the skin of her teeth. And in all that time she had found little to no hints of when the events portrayed in the books of her time would take place. Except for little Estel. She smiled at just the memory of the boy, he would be about ten now, she realized. He had been sent out to the Dunedain to train in their ways and she had yet to hear from him since his last letter five months back. She knew he was growing older, becoming more responsible, and had other things to worry about than to write to his old babysitter but she dearly missed his chicken scratch ramblings.

"I am sure that if Tinusell had not been filling her lungs with that nasty pipeweed all hours of the day she would have remembered to inform you that my Lord Elrond is not here." Lindir sent her an irritable look before recovering. It happened so fast that Bilbo had not even been able to catch it but he had sensed the change of tone in the elf's voice well enough.

Ugh, she hated Lindir with a burning passion. Just hearing her name roll off of his tongue was enough to irritate her and now he was accusing her of smoking too much! She did not reward him with a reaction; instead she turned her face away towards the sunset with a sigh, tightening her hold on the reins of her horse in frustration.

"Not here? Where ever is he?" Gandalf asked, exasperated by Lindir's remark and more than a little bit defensive. He had been the one to give her that pipe, after all, and he often engaged in smoking himself.

He was answered by the distant blaring of an unmistakably elven horn. All in the square turned to watch the approaching group of mounted elves. Every horse in their group was white, speckled grey, except for the one leading the way. Lord Elrond galloped ahead of the group on his dark mount and burst into the square with a clatter of horse hooves. The others followed his lead and circled the dwarves who had long since formed ranks around the befuddled hobbit. Bilbo was once more left with no view of what was going on around them.

"Gandalf," Elrond greeted happily. He wore an appreciative smile as his horse strode forward towards the wizard.

"Lord Elrond, my friend, where have you been?" He bowed, one hand placed over his heart, and smiled in return.

"We have been hunting a pack of orcs from the south. We slew a number near the hidden pass," he explained as he dismounted. His dark cloak and hair fell about him in a regal way and he nodded at Lindir in greeting before turning his gaze back to the wizard. "Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders. Something or someone has drawn them near," he mused and turned to take in Thorin and his people curiously.

"Yes, that would have been us," Gandalf admitted.

"Welcome Thorin, Son of Thrain," Elrond greeted respectfully. He bowed his head in a brief nod and allowed his eyes to trail over Thorin curiously.

"I do not believe we have met," Thorin forced out. He cocked his head in a dangerous way and the others shifted behind him.

"You have your grandfather's bearing," Elrond noted with raised brows, "I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed he made no mention of you," Thorin responded.

Katy blanched at the dwarf, more than a bit surprised by his behavior, and scowled. Lord Elrond was the kindest and most respectable person she had ever met in her life. He had offered her his very home and treated her as any father would. In all the years that she had lived in Rivendell she had never seen anyone so blatantly disrespect him and yet she watched as he casually brushed it off like nothing and then invited them into his home, ordering for the house to be prepared for them, and offered them a smile. She supposed it was not too different from what she used to do back in her own time. Managing a restaurant often required her to grin and bear whatever verbal hailstorm angry guests could throw at her. Maybe Elrond was using the same mentality, obviously he wasn't doing it for money, but he probably wanted them to remain in compliant moods. Less damage done to his home that way, probably.

She tapped her horse's sides, wheeling her mount around, and moved towards the other end of the square intent on seeing her to the stables.

"Katelyn."

She reined in her horse and looked over her shoulder at Elrond.

"I hope you have behaved while I was away," he finished with a stern but amused tone. If she had run into Gandalf and his small troop then she must have been snooping about the hidden pass. Something that, while normally was not a problem, worried him greatly. He knew that she was human at heart and still had a tendency to grow impatient, frustrated, and downright vile when she was kept in one place for too long. Against her will.

She sighed but did not show any expression as she responded, "I am sure that if you asked Lindir he would whine about my smoking habits and how frequently I partake in it but I am sure you can understand my recent increase." She did not wait for a response and once again kicked her horse, this time into a trot, and clattered down the path to the stables.

Elrond watched her go over the heads of the dwarves who were at that moment being led into his home. He sighed through is nose, watching as she disappeared around a bend in the path, and allowed a look of disappointment to briefly flit across his face.

"Your decision is a sound one, my friend, do not let her frustrations hinder your judgment," Gandalf said.

"She has every right to be frustrated, Mithrandir, she is not a child and yet I am keeping her hear against her will," Elrond muttered.

"For her own safety," Gandalf reminded.

"I will admit that it is also for more selfish reasons than that," Elrond began. He gave the wizard a pointed look before moving past him after the last of the dwarves and climbed up the first few steps. Gandalf followed after him, lifting his robes from under his feet to ascend the stairs. "She has kept up a steady flow of communication with those in Mirkwood and I fear that her heart does not lie anywhere else but within those dark woods." He did not look at the wizard as they continued into the great hall and told him of his suspicions. "She gravitates to that place like a moth to flame and while I am glad that she has gotten the chance to expand her knowledge of the outside world, I believe there is more than simple interest behind her letters to the king."

"The king?" Gandalf questioned with creased brows. He shot a glance at the elf lord curiously. "He writes to her?"

"Frequently," Elrond said.

Over the three years they had held the summer festival in Rivendell each summer and the elves of Mirkwood had come parading into the valley to greet their old friends joyously. Each time the woodland elves arrived in larger numbers bearing gifts and smiles alike for the residents of Imladris. And the King would come riding down on his great elk wearing his crown of wild flowers and flowing green robes to greet Lord Elrond. It was always like that. He remained a political figure for the first day but after that he would seek out the Dragon Charmer and they would continue to discuss the future. Though Katy often tried to distract him with questions of his homeland and other random subjects regarding Middle Earth. On several occasions Legolas himself or the twins came to her rescue and dragged her away or suggested an activity of some sort to give her a break.

Despite her want to avoid speaking of her own time she greatly enjoyed Thranduil's presence. He was calm, perceptive, and ready to dish out witty and sharp tongued banter with the best of them. In all honesty he was the best of them. She could hardly keep up with him and she felt her sarcastic ego take a bruising every time they met. It was quite invigorating.

He had found her one day, sitting by a small pond, struggling to make an arrow. While she had become rather adept at archery, making the arrows was something she had yet to master. She had been muttering and cursing, nursing a cut on her thumb, when he made his presence known.

"My, that mouth of yours," he drawled.

She had craned her neck back to look behind her, finding him standing there in his green summer robes and wearing a rather disapproving look that she knew masked his amusement. That was something she rather liked about him: he had an air of royalty but deep down he was just a scoundrel like the rest of them. The sun streamed across the water and just reached him, bathing him in an ethereal glow, and she looked away irritably.

"I never said I was a well-mannered. You just assumed and you know what they say about assuming," she shot back, examining the arrow shaft in her hands.

"What do they say?" he asked with a quirked brow, though she could not see it.

She paused before shaking her head, "It wouldn't translate well."

"Of course," he agreed with an air of sarcasm.

She sighed and set the arrow shaft down and stood, brushing off the seat of her pants and briefly stretching before turning to him. "How can I help you today, Your Highness?" she bowed at the waist.

Thranduil had laughed, satisfied that he had irritated her enough to resort to formalities, before moving forward to join her by the pond.

"I wished to sit with a person of intelligence and enjoy the weather," he explained, gesturing for her to reclaim her seat on the grass. She had shrugged and done as he wished, slightly surprised when he himself lowered to the ground next to her. Though she did note he had leaned back to relax on one elbow and still managed to look regal what with his silken robes and crown of summer flowers. She on the other hand, was wearing the same clothing from the day before, dirty and stained from weapons practice with Glorfindel, and her hair was wild and untamed.

"I hardly consider myself highly intelligent," she responded after a moment's thought.

Thranduil did not answer her but instead looked out over the large pond absently; taking in the way the sunlight filtered in through the trees and sparkled against the water. A bird sang in the distance.

"Strange," Gandalf mumbled. His mind was racing with ideas but his face remained blank as he followed Elrond to his study where they would speak before dinner that night.

Katy slid off the back of her mounts before leading her into the stables. Oddly enough she found Erestor there, brushing down his own horse, and murmuring kind words to it as he worked. She rarely found him outside of the library let alone actually _outside_.

She pulled on the horse's reins, admiring the way she obediently stepped forward and nudged her shoulder in an almost comforting gesture. Katy smiled at the large animal and led her into her stall.

"What is troubling you, Katelyn? You do not seem so chipper this evening," Erestor observed a few stalls over, not bothering to look up at her as he spoke.

She sighed, undoing the buckles on her saddle before answering, "Just the usual."

"Do not let it get you down," Erestor responded, allowing his eyes to trail over to her from over back of his horse. "Elrond has only your safety in mind."

"I've been under house arrest for three years now," she muttered, "I think it is time I was allowed out. I'm not a child and keeping me locked away will not prevent me from finding danger down the road. I have a job to do and it's going to require me to stick my nose in places where it doesn't belong."

Erestor smiled kindly at her, patting the horse lovingly before stepping out of the stall and moving over to her. "It may seem like a long time to you but you must remember that we are an immortal people and three years is merely a passing second to us."

"Well I'm not!" she snapped before shutting her eyes and taking a breath through her nose to calm her rising anger. "I am not immortal, Erestor, even if it may seem like it while I wear the ring. He is wasting my time and I don't know how much I have to begin with," she added more calmly.

"I know, Tinusell," Erestor said quietly. "He loves you like his own, I only ask that you take that into consideration." He slid his hands into the sleeves of his robes thoughtfully, watching her tend to her horse.

"I know," she answered guiltily. She was just frustrated. She was sometimes overcome by a restlessness, urging her to go out into the world, that she was running out of time, and that she had to move quickly. But to leave Rivendell would be going against Elrond's orders. After the incident with the dragon she had not been allowed to leave Rivendell, and the few times she had, she had been forced to bring a host of escorts with her. It made going anywhere nearly impossible and difficult. By the time she had gathered enough elves to satisfy Elrond whatever she had wanted to do seemed too troublesome to even bother with. She had spent the past years twiddling her thumbs and struggling to find ways to pass the time. She had read nearly everything the libraries had to offer and had excelled in any form of weaponry or combat through days of practice. She had taken to wandering the valley, smoking the pipe gifted to her by Mithrandir, and wondering when she would be allowed to roam Middle Earth.

Katy returned to her room shortly after and changed into her favorite white dress for the dinner that night. While she normally would have remained her clothing of the day she knew that Elrond preferred that she at least make an effort to look nice for their evening meals. She stood in front of her mirror and played with the skirts of the dress lovingly but paused to examine her scars. The open cut sleeves showed the scars on her arms and collar bone more than her usual clothing would. She was not an overly vain person but she had felt awkward under the scrutiny of the dwarves early that day. She was an elf, at least outwardly so, and she knew that her otherwise fair and radiant appearance was utterly thrown off by the ugly scars. The elves were used to it and understood how she had come about them so were polite and at least pretended not to take notice.

She sighed, allowing her eyes to drop to the pictures of her friends and family she had slid into the mirror frame, and pulled the dress off over her head. She instead slipped on a black gown of equal beauty but less revealing of her arms. It trailed behind her as she walked and hid her feet from view so she could go about barefoot freely without being judged. It was an unusual color for elves to wear unless in mourning but then, she wasn't really an elf, the second she had finished her duty in Middle Earth she had no doubt that she would return to being human.

Over the years she had resisted the urge of spilling the beans, so to speak, about the books and movies of Middle Earth to Elrond. He was rather perceptive though and she realized he had his own suspicions but had never broached her on the subject. Gandalf had figured it out quickly enough, however, and she assumed that he had shared his thoughts with the elf lord at some point. It was never spoken of, not yet anyways, but she had no doubt that after the dwarves were gone she would be questioned. It was too big of an event, it hinted at much to come, and she knew Elrond would be nervous about the future. He struggled to keep the peace, or the idea of it, alive even as the world slowly darkened. She knew that he had worked hard, personally had a hand in the previous war against Sauron, and the thought that he would one day return was one the haunted him. So few ever listened to him, or Gandalf for that matter, and in that aspect she felt she could sympathize with them, if only a little. She had felt similar frustrations while managing at Tommy's years ago, always instructing the staff on what to do, but they would resist until it was too late. She often gave them a sad smile whenever she caught either of the two brooding over the world.

She had not returned to see her family. She often popped back into her time when she needed to buy more coffee grounds or to borrow an outlet, but she never returned to her home town. She knew too many people there and the last thing she needed was to be stopped and questioned about where she had been and why she was wearing such strange clothing. She only ever went when it became necessary because the temptation and hurt was too much for her to handle for long but she did go for a whole day every once in a while. Sometimes she needed to remind herself where her home was and who she had been before the ring had sent her to Middle Earth. She would pack a bag and change into some of her old clothes and wander about for a day, eating out and browsing through stores, she would travel or sight see, strike up random conversations with strangers, and keep up with the news. Other times she would simply wander, breathing in the air of her home, and think about what she had left behind.

She pulled back some of her hair into a braid, allowing the majority to fall free, and left her room with a sigh. She loved Elrond like a father, especially after her own had passed away, but it was hard for her to show it when he brought up her home arrest and questioned her on her behavior as if he did not trust her. She knew he was only worried for her safety but it hurt all the same.

She trailed down the halls in thought, biting a nail absently, and stepped into the courtyard often used for the families private dinners with close friends and honored guests. Upon arriving she realized that, as per her reputation, she was late. Everyone was already seated and partaking in their meal though she was amused to notice that the dwarves did not take kindly to their salads.

Elrond looked up from his conversation with Gandalf and Thorin and sent an inviting smile her way and she obligingly moved to join them at the separate table quickly. He noted the dress that she had chosen to wear that night and felt a pang of sadness but did not let it show. When she had sat down he reached across the table and grasped her hand comfortingly before returning to their original conversation. It was at that moment that she wished for the company of the twins but they were away on patrol with Glorfindel and had not returned in time for dinner that day. She doubted they would return the next day either, their patrols nearly lasted a week before they would return, and they were only getting longer as Orc activity increased.

"So I take it you've taken a liking to the pipe I gave you," Gandalf said from across the table. He wore a satisfied smirk that invoked a grin from Katy in return.

"Yeah, but I can't do as many smoke tricks with it," she admitted playfully and shrugged.

"Oh?" Gandalf quirked a brow.

"I'll have to set up my old hookah one day and show you some fancy stuff, you'll get a lot of smoke out of that thing, way more than a pipe," she answered while she picked at her salad that had been placed in front of her as they spoke.

"Interesting, I would be willing to give it a try," he said.

"Do you smoke, Thorin?" Katy asked curiously.

The dwarf looked up from his brooding and smiled halfheartedly, "When the chance arrives I enjoy it." He was in no mood for small talk but he found that the elf woman was too kind and perceiving to ignore. She had rather intelligent eyes, as all elves tended to, but hers were filled with a much brighter spark than the rest. He did not know it but this was due to a combination of the life of a star within her and the still human and mortal mindset that she carried.

"Then I will have to set it up tonight so that everyone can have a go. It'll burn for a good hour or so," she offered.

"I am sure the others would be appreciative," Thorin agreed with a nod. "Bofur has been running low on pipeweed."

"Excellent," Katy said. She discovered that when Thorin was being pleasant, she rather liked him. When she spoke to him on a social level he smiled, albeit tightly, and listened with his full attention. She knew he had a lot on his plate at the moment, the Lonely Mountain chief among them, and she admired the way he managed to set it aside with her. Though she noticed that when speaking with any of the men he became serious and brooding again and she could not decide then if he was humoring her or genuinely being polite. He was a politician, she realized, never truly reigned but already adept at playing the part of a king. She wondered if any but his own company had ever bowed to him. If not, had that been where he garnered his sense of humility? The careful way he approached any but elves and orcs?

She listened that night at dinner. She watched as the three men, each of a different race, conversed over the darkness they encountered on their journey. The dangers they faced and the things they discovered and even the night at Bilbo's house. The last caused quite a bit of laughter from her and Elrond but she did not give any serious input in the discussion. It was not because she was not interested. Far from it. But she was weary of showing Elrond that she was interested in the outside world for fear that he would shut her down. It was a silly and utterly unfounded fear but every time her eyes caught Gandalf's he seemed to look at her imploringly. She caught on quickly though for she knew the story of The Hobbit and the journey ahead of them.

He wanted the Dragon Charmer to go with them.

When they had finished their meals the three had left her with polite goodbyes to discuss the real reason for their arrival. As they left the courtyard she watched Balin climb to his feet and follow after his king loyally. Elrond led the way, followed by the two dwarves, with Gandalf following behind and just before they disappeared through the doors he turned and gave her one last look. She laughed and nodded at him, waving him away, before standing herself.

She would have to pack.

Now that she had a reason, something to push her into action, she refused to dawdle in Rivendell any longer. Elrond would most likely be livid with her but she knew he would eventually understand, if he did not already, and so excused herself from the company.

It took her less than an hour to stuff a bag with all the things she would need. A change of clothes, her diary she had started keeping in order to keep her times strait, a few spare weapons and provisions, and whatever else she thought she could carry. When she had finished she pulled on a tank top and breeches under her dress, laced up her boots, and stashed her bag where she could easily access it but keep it out of sight.

When she was satisfied she hurried out in the halls and followed the obnoxious laughter until she found the dwarves, stowed away in their own wing, burning furniture and eating meat. Her two favorite things. She had brought her hookah along so when she stepped through the double doors and into the living area of the suit she was welcomed with joyous surprise. She set it up quickly atop a table and started it before passing the hose off to Bufor in trade for a sausage.

"I haven't had actual meat in ages!" she had cried, to which the group had responded with laughter. "I've been nothing but skin and bones because of it."

She was quite glad to find that the dwarves had much more in common with her than the elves, humor wise, and she found herself slipping into her old ways. Spouting out boorish and perverted come backs and jokes while munching on a piece of jerky and playing with the fire they had started. She had been a bit irritated by it at first, fearing that Elrond would be upset, but she quickly realized that it was just furniture and the elves had the rest of time to make more.

"Good lord man, save some for the rest of us!" She cried when Bomber once again grabbed a handful of food stuffs from the pile they had created on a low table in easy reach of everyone.

"He can't!" Fili exclaimed with a laugh, "He eats like he breathes and breathes like he eats!"

"That doesn't surprise me," she laughed.

When Bufor threw a sausage over to the fat dwarf the bench broke from beneath him and they all rolled with laughter. Katy herself fell back against a pillow snorting. She hadn't had so much fun in ages, it was rare that she laughed as hard as she had that night, and it made her miss her friends from years back sorely.

If she really thought about it she was reminded of the old days when she used to go to the hookah bar with large groups of friends and they would stay up well into the night talking and laughing. There was often live music and sing alongs to fill the night and they laughed and heckled all who got on stage in good humor.

"You're a strange one," Gloin observed some time later.

"What can I say? It runs in the family," she answered with a nonchalant shrug and drew from her hookah thoughtfully.

"What family is that?" Gloin asked, perturbed.

"I'm not exactly from these parts," she explained with a chuckle. "My home is far away from Middle Earth."

She would not delve any further into her story, but the dwarves took the hint and let the matter drop, needless to say they had cultivated a new respect and weariness for her. They did not let it get in the way of their fun though. They continued to destroy their rooms well in the late hours of the night.

As promised, she also told them the story of The Dragon Charmer, and held them transfixed by her tale. They scrunched their noses up when she spoke of Mirkwood and laughed when she described Estel and his boyish antics. They were quite the crowd, she would admit, and asked many questions that provided much laughter.

"What was your reaction when you first saw Smaug?" Kili whispered, leaning forward earnestly.

"Oh shit!" she cried, causing laughter. "I knew he was there but when he actually pulled himself out from the piles of gold and caught sight of me I was honestly terrified. How in the world was I going to survive facing a dragon?"

"What about the gold?" Gloin asked quietly.

"It was magnificent," she answered simply, "It was all piled up in this big cavern, some hills as tall as Smaug himself, all glittering and sparkling innocently. Quite a contrast to Smaug with his flakey scales and horrible breath." She scrunched up her nose at the memory.

"How did you get away exactly?" Dwalin asked suspiciously.

"I convinced him that I was not interested in treasure, only stories, and he encircled me with his great big tail and wings and demanded I tell him all the stories I had. I must have talked for hours, spinning him every tale I could think of, until he fell asleep and then I snuck away," she explained. She recalled the day and rubbed at her scars absently. "But even as I spoke he kept belching and snorting fire at me and I was about to reach my limit, I could tell, I had never been more thirsty in my life."

The dwarves fell silent, watching her in awe and wonder, and waited for her to continue.

"Go on then," Bofur prodded her, eager to learn how she escaped.

"When he had fallen asleep I scampered away, back to the gates, and discovered that Elrohir and Glorfindel had gone missing along with Estel," she said, remembering the panic and sadness she had felt at the realization. She had suffered so long, holding on to the vain hope that if she escaped her friends would be there to welcome her back to the world of light with open arms and words of congratulations, and when she had finally stumbled out of the mountain to find no one in sight she had been heartbroken.

"Of course they did," Dwalin snorted in disgust. "Elves."

"Wait," she advised with a smirk, "It's not what you would think."

"Sure it's not," he muttered.

"I had a moment, I will admit, where I almost gave up. I was in so much pain and I felt sick. But I realized it would seem lame if I escaped a dragon only to fall at his doorstep," she muttered.

"What you did was amazing, no one would have blamed you," Fili said kindly.

She smiled at him appreciatively, "Regardless, I pushed myself back up and decided to return to Mirkwood. It was my own pride that forced me to walk past Lake Town, I wanted nothing to do with its people then, and so I marched East. I walked for a day and half, delusional with thirst and hunger, and when I had been trying to decide if I would stop and sleep, from which I knew I probably would not get up, when I saw something . . ." she trailed off, watching them as they all leaned towards her curiously. Though some tried to hide their interest she noted amusedly.

"What?" Ori spoke up from the back of the group.

She paused, realizing that telling them Thranduil had brought his entire army to rescue her would probably cause them anger so she lied and said, "It was a great big elk and three horses riding towards me. Glorfindel and Elrohir had rode back to Mirkwood and brought the king himself to save me. It was a good thing I managed to get myself out, there would have been nothing they could do against a dragon, and I assumed Thranduil himself knew this. He probably just came along out of duty but nevertheless, at the sight of them I fell to my knees and bawled my eyes out like a baby."

"I would too if I saw that thing riding towards me," Dwalin muttered darkly, causing the group to laugh.

Katy resisted the urge to sigh and laughed instead, "Stubborn he may be but the king saved my life that day, I had escaped Smaug, yes, but festering burns, especially those caused by dragons, will make you sick. He swept me away and brought me back to health, allowing me to rest in his halls while I healed."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, it must have been horrible, being stuck with all those woodland sprites," Bofur cried with a laugh.

"It wasn't so bad," she said with a shrug, "I amused myself by pretending to confuse them all with one another. All elves look the same, don't you think, high cheekbones and flowing hair." She ran her fingers through her long locks exaggeratedly and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"But you're an elf, lass!" Gloin pointed out in good humor.

"Only physically!" she shot back defensively, "In spirit I am a dragon!"

They all laughed.

It was nearing midnight when the doors to their rooms were thrown open and Thorin stalked in, followed shortly by Bilbo and Balin, and took in the sight of his group of misfits with a sigh. Bilbo spotted Katy right away and moved to sit next to her at a low table and took in the destruction around him nervously.

"Won't they be angry?" he whispered to her. He had just left the presence of Lord Elrond and while he could not imagine the elf angry he knew that it would be quite the intimidating sight. Elves were jovial creatures by nature but Middle Earth had seen its dark days over the years and the elves had reciprocated in kind. He had read many a tale about elven warriors leading grand charges into the darkness. And yet Elrond himself, whom he had heard of before around bar tables and whispered through books, still managed to seem bright and kind despite his part in the wars.

"I don't know," she shrugged, "I suspect whoever has to clean this up will be." She took in the mess with fresh eyes, realizing the destruction they had caused, and felt pity for whatever elf would be left to repair all that they had done. She could sympathize.

"You don't seem all that worried," Bilbo commented dryly. He had not quite got a read on her character yet but from what he could tell she was of the jovial sarcastic sort.

"We won't be here when they find it," she responded with a laugh.

"What do you mean?" he asked curiously. "We?"

"We will not linger here," Thorin spoke over the din of laughter and merrymaking as if to prove her point. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to their soon to be king curiously. "We leave at dawn to head for the mountains. Gandalf will meet us there." Thorin scanned the room, his eyes landing on Katy curiously, before turning away to his own appointed room. He had much to mull over and he wished to do it in solitude.

Balin watched him go with a sigh before joining the group around the fire.

Katy watched as the group turned serious and began muttering amongst themselves, packing away some of their things for an easy departure, and the mood quickly dwindled. Next to her Bilbo let out a sigh and she smiled down at him encouragingly.

"Don't worry, I am sure one day you will return to Rivendell," she assured.

"I hope so," he muttered. He had fallen in love with the serene and beautiful home, filled with peaceful and kind people. It was the stuff of legends where he came from, few Hobbits ever went beyond the borders of the shire and those that did were labeled as trouble makers. It was bound to happen to him, he quickly realized when he had left his own home, he was a Took after all. He was reminded of his arm chair then, and he let out a sight, watching the elven furniture dwindle away under the fire. His own had been treated less than amicably too.

She left them soon after that, packing her hookah away in a bag and slinking out through the large doors into the halls of Rivendell. It seemed a good idea to get a bit of rest before setting out in the early morning but even as she quietly made her way back to her room she knew that she would get little sleep. Her trouble with her sleeping habits only became worse when she became an elf, needing even less than she had before, it became a hobby of hers to see how long she could go without so much as a nap. Her record was two weeks. She hefted her bag on her shoulder and turned the corner, letting her eyes drift out to the moonlit gardens absently and paused.

Erestor stood with an unfamiliar elf on a balcony overlooking the falls and as she passed he had spotted her, gesturing to her with his hand. He was wearing his best attire, she noted, the silky ivory robes fell about him in a ghostly fashion and his dark glossy hair stood out against the pale cloth strikingly. The ellyth next to him must be someone of importance.

Confused she made her way over to the two, glancing both ways down the hall to see if anyone else was about. When she was certain there were no other elves, dwarves, or hobbits roaming about she scampered over to the elf and his companion. Her bare feet silent on the cold stone.

"Tinusell, there is someone I would like you to meet," Erestor began when she had slowed to a stop in front of the two. "This is Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien."

Katy stared at the beautiful elf open mouthed. She was said to be the oldest of the remaining elves in Middle Earth yet she appeared to be as young and lively as Katy herself. Her long hair fell about her in silver gold waves and her eyes held the light of the stars as she smiled down at the young woman turned elf kindly. She looked nothing like the actress that had played her in the movies, Katy thought, for she was even younger and kinder than imagined.

"It is a pleasure," Katy stammered and bowed with a hand to her heart. She really wished she would look that good when she hit fifty let alone however old Lady Galadriel was. How unfair.

"I have heard much about you, little one," Galadriel said kindly.

"As have I," she responded, slipping into a more formal pattern of speech. Her eyes drifted to Erestor curiously, unsure of why he had deemed just then to be a good time to introduce her to the Lady. She was in a black dress wrinkled from wear and she smelled of sweet smoke and probably had food in her teeth or something else equally as embarrassing. All she could think of was her mother lecturing her on first impressions.

"You look beautiful, my dear, no need to fret over something so trivial," Galadriel said with a laugh. She raised a hand to hide the growing smile but it did little good. Her grin was infectious and Katy found herself smiling as well. "I had hoped to make the acquaintance of the newest ring bearer and you happened to walk by at just the right moment."

"You have an important task ahead of you." Galadriel's voice echoed in her mind. "There is much for you yet to learn but I sense that you will be successful in the most unsuspecting of ways. Do not fear. Though I cannot see clearly the world which you create I do sense much joy and laughter and even love."

Katy jerked in surprise, blinking her eyes curiously up at the ethereal woman before giving her a hesitant nod. She did not respond to Galadriel, knowing that her comment had not been meant as a conversational piece, and was rather an observation and attempt at assurance. The world she would create? She dropped her eyes to the stone floor thoughtfully. She would succeed then?

"Yes, well, I do not think I need to remind you of your reason for being here," Erestor announced with a friendly smile of his own. He was unaware of what had just taken place but it did not take a genius to know that the two had shared a private moment.

"You are right of course, Erestor my dear friend," Galadriel agreed eloquently.

The two left her there, standing upon the balcony, staring blankly into the night confused by what had just transpired. If she received any more mystical babble in her life she would probably do something drastic. She did not know what. But it would be big and cause lots of discomfort for the others. She shook her head irritably and left for her room.

Since she had first set foot in Middle Earth her life had taken a strange collection of twists and turns that more than not left her feeling lost and frustrated. She had a task handed down to her from the very last star of magic in the world – to rebuild what once was, to restart the world, and bring magic back – and she had consumed as much information about the world of Middle Earth to understand what it was she could do. She had only a vague idea of what needed to be done but when Gandalf had hinted at her to join them on their quest she realized that it would be the best place to start. She knew the outcome of the oncoming trials and she knew she had a rare chance to change it for the better. She would be able to insure that the line of Durin continued and maybe she could do something about that dragon.

Her mind was filled with thoughts and possibilities that night and true to form she did not sleep but spent it pacing and fiddling with objects in her room. She was restless and ready to begin their journey.

She spent an hour or so reading over the letters between her and the King of Mirkwood. They were nothing special mostly more of his nagging questions about her time and her horrible attempts at explaining things to the best of her abilities. Though she would admit she rather enjoyed informing him of photography, films, and other forms of media. She suspected he could tell as his letters after that had more to deal with forms of art and expression.

He had an almost childlike curiosity.

It was kind of cute.

Though she would never admit that to him, or anyone, for that matter.

He was a bit of a show off too, if she said so herself, because it was never a person who delivered his letters. She would be eating breakfast or practicing with some form of weapon when a random woodland animal would come bounding up to her, excited as a puppy, and demand her attention with a letter attached to them somewhere. She had been discussing politics with Lord Elrond himself one afternoon, deep in the realms of grim topics, when a sly little fox came slinking into the room they had chosen to talk in. He must have slipped through the hallways like a ninja, she thought, when the red little creature nuzzled at her ankle. Lord Elrond had given it a curious look, raised brow and all, and asked her just whom exactly she had been trading words with.

"Thranduil," she had answered off handedly, reaching down to scratch the fox between his ears and slip the parchment from a collar around his neck.

"And what, pray tell, have you been discussing?" He leaned forward, hands clasped, watching her imploringly.

"Recently?" she asked with a laugh, "He's been asking me about computers."

She chuckled at the memory and slid the rolled pieces of parchment into her bag. She could read them later if she needed a form of entertainment. She would not have the chance to peruse them again, however, but she did not know it at the time.

When the first rays of the sun slid into the valley she had pulled her bag over her shoulders, adjusted her belts and weaponry, and moved out onto her balcony. She had managed to coax a tree to reach its limbs up the railing through years of effort. It had been Elrohir who had taught her how to sing to the trees, to wake them from their slumbers, and bring them to life. Though this specific tree had gone a bit wild in its more recent growth, she suspected it was because she had sung it to life with The Beatles as opposed to the usual elven songs.

She set one boot onto the largest of the branches and stepped down from the railing, marveling at her balance, and tightroped across to the trunk. She scampered down like a house cat and dropped to the ground quietly.

She glanced about the gardens. Nothing moved and she sensed no other elves about. How convenient.

She did not waste any more time pondering on the level of difficulty presented to her, for it was laughably low, and continued on her venture. She had never before had to sneak out of a house but she was finding herself enjoying it. She had done her fair share of snooping about of course, but the majority of it had had to do with a dragon's lair, and less to do with disobeying authoritive figures.

She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and slithered through the trees making her way towards the mountain pass that she knew the dwarves would be taking. She had decided on trailing them rather than meeting up with them at the entrance, she had no doubt they would not take kindly to an elf joining in their quest, even a human turned elf. She had donned her gloves and softest boots to allow for extra stealth so when she came upon the shuffling group she was not surprised they did not hear her.

She spotted Bilbo trudging along at the back of the group, sending wistful glances over his shoulder to the dwindling house of Rivendell, and watched as Balin called to him and drew his attention forward. It would not do to linger on the things behind them.

Katy could sympathize. Though she had been withheld within Imladris by the word of Elrond she had only grown to think of it fondly. It was peaceful and sometimes dull, yes, but there had been days filled with laughter and fun as well. Her and the twins had continued to be the mischievous trio even after Estel had left to train in the ways of the Dunadin and their best scapegoat could never be counted on again. She had grown closer to her elf friends and learned much of their history despite her irritable view on her house arrest.

When she looked back at the grand building, painted by the orange rays of the rising sun, she felt a pang deep in her chest. It had been home for nearly seven years for her. It had been her refuge and her place of peacefulness. While she refused to see her family until her task was done the elves of Rivendell had taken it upon themselves to be their replacement to the best of their abilities.

She turned away, taking Balin's advice, and followed after the group. It simply would not do.

"Where are you going?"

She feared even the hand she had placed over her heart would not keep the organ from beating out of her chest. The voice had come from nowhere, suspicious, and sounding more than a bit irritable. She turned to look behind her, coming face to face with a familiar figure.

Elrohir.

He stood with his arms crossed, armor gleaming in the spotted morning light filtering in through the trees, and stared at her with a quirked brow reminiscent of his father. He looked a bit worn for wear but otherwise alert. The patrol must have returned just as the sun rose, which meant Elladan was not far behind.

True to her observations the other twin slipped through the trees into view and paused upon spotting her.

"What are you doing?" he asked wearily.

"Leaving," she answered after a moment's hesitation. "I have a job to do and this is my only chance," she pleaded with them, staring at them imploringly.

Her desperation did not go unnoticed by the two as they shared a knowing glance.

"Katy," Elrohir began haltingly. He took a step forward and then let out a sigh before looking back at his brother for some kind of assistance. Elladan seemed just as lost as he did, offering him nothing but a desperate expression in return. They seemed to speak to each other silently, gesturing and staring for an extended period of time.

"I can't stay here forever, Elrohir, nothing lasts forever," she mumbled. Her eyes dropped to the ground between them, feeling ashamed at her mortality of all things, and clenched her fists. She wished life was easier, but if that were so, then she would have never of had to leave her own time to begin with. She would never have had the opportunity to meet the people she had, experience the things she did, and learn of who she truly was.

Elrohir stepped forward and pulled her into a very human embrace, ignoring the stunned look he knew his brother was giving him. At first his grip was light and awkward but he quickly tightened the embrace when she lifted her hands to his back. "Be safe," he muttered before pulling away and disappearing through the trees wearing a grim expression. He feared that if he remained then he would physically drag her back to their home with no regards for elven culture. He could only imagine the scene they would make and how much trouble Katelyn would get in because of it.

Elladan watched his brother go before stepping up to Katy with a smile, "As if you could leave us forever," he said quietly. He gave her a quick hug as well before leaving her alone among the trees.

The two had come and gone so quickly. They understood her. They had watched her grow more and more frustrated as the years passed and knew that it had only been a matter of time before she could resist the call to action no longer. They had grown close, becoming a tight knit trio, and it was strange to understand that she would not seem them for a whole year. She could not imagine what it would be like without their constant sarcastic banter in the background. Elrohir was more quiet, wise, and reserved than his brother yes but they always managed to get her worked up and flinging her arms in frustration. When she looked back at her time with them she could only recall their laughter.

How cruel, she thought, for fate to punish her so. She would have left with barely a second thought but now she was weighed down by guilt. No doubt the twins would have to lie to their father on her part, pretend that they did not run into her on her way out, and act as if all was okay. She only hoped they did not worry over her too much over the coming months.


	3. Chapter 2

"My Lord Elrond; The Dwarves, they've gone."

All eyes turned to Lindir, watching as he nervously stood under the archway of the pavilion, and awaited the reaction of Elrond.

The four had gathered in the high pavilion over the night and they talked long of Gandalf's doings and what the future may or not may hold. The great beings of power moved about the stone structure, speaking in low tones, whispering of the darkness of old. But not even the memories and weariness born from years of fear and strife could stop the sun from rising. It clawed its way over the horizon without a thought towards their somber discussions.

"I should have known," Elrond said, sending a derisive and somewhat amused look at the wizard. "Misdirection is one of your strong suits, if I recall," he drawled.

Gandalf did not respond other than to send a wink in Elrond's direction.

"Of course, who knows what the outcome of this will be," Suarumon rose from his chair, glowering at the grey wizard, before storming from the pavilion. He had had enough of Gandal's meddling. His white robes flew out around him in a flurry and he wore a glower all through the halls of Rivendell. He had worked hard over the centuries to ensure that Middle Earth saw peace and the grey wizard threatened to ruin it all, sticking his meddlesome nose in things long since forgotten, left to slumber in the deepest depths of the Earth.

"I am sorry to say that, while the dwarves are no doubt marching for their mountain, there is one other who has gone missing," Lindir added after the white wizard had vacated the premises. He tried not to show the delight he felt but as the words left his mouth a hint of a smirk arose. While he did not outright hate Tinusell, he found he rather enjoyed annoying her and causing her distress, she was just such a trouble maker. She needed to learn composure and humility and he had taken it upon himself to be her teacher. Yet no matter how much he struggled she only seemed to grow worse.

"I wonder who," Elrond ground out and once again turned to the wizard. He was not outright angry, in the sense that it did not show on his face, but the stillness that fell over the pavilion could not be mistaken for anything but the livid anger of the high elf. Though he was half human himself he had the air of royalty just then. He straightened his posture, staring down at the seated Gandalf, "Mithrandir, I fear you may have overstepped."

"She was bound to get out eventually," Gandalf defended, "What better time than this?"

"Dark and evil things are stirring in the world and you send her off on an adventure towards the very beast that scarred her so?" Elrond snapped. He paced about the pavilion before coming to a stop at the table, supporting himself with both palms spread over the smooth surface.

"She is not afraid of that serpent any more than I am afraid of a lone wolf. He is dangerous but easily overcome with the right skill and I have much faith in her," Gandalf exclaimed.

"It is not her courage that I worry about but her safety!"

Gandalf fell silent, stunned by the lack of anger in the elf's voice, and amazed at the desperation brought up to replace it.

"She is only a child to us," Elrond continued, "She does not understand that, yes there is magic here in this time, but there is also death and it is quite capable of befalling her."

"Lord Elrond, I implore you to see reason, I have sent, not only a group of capable dwarves to that mountain, but a hobbit as well. Do you believe her chances of surviving this are any less than his?" Gandalf leaned back in his chair, spreading his hands out to the distraught man, before continuing. "They need more than brute force to succeed in this venture, no amount of physical skill will save them against a dragon, Smaug is far too powerful for them alone. She has done what few have ever managed and I had hoped that she could do it again."

Elrond shook his head and pushed himself away from the table, frustrated beyond belief, and worried for the safety of his charge.

"It is clear that you care deeply for her," Galadriel spoke from her position under the far archway. The two men turned to her in varying states of emotional distress, hoping she could shed some wisdom upon the mess they had found themselves in. "But you must know that she will face much darkness in her future whether you hide her from the coming dangers or not. She will not sit idly by and watch the world die a second time," she said and turned her face towards the rising sun. "She may yet surprise you."

Elrond could not argue with the lady, she was far older and wiser than he, but that did not stop him from leveling Gandalf with a heated look heavy with promise. He turned from the two, clenching his fists as he walked, and descended the stairs into his home. The thought of Katelyn standing in front of the serpent, frozen with terror while he hissed and chuckled at her trembling form, left him feeling sick. The image had come to him not two weeks ago in his dreams and he had thought nothing of it, assumed it was brought on by the sight of her scars and his worrying for her, but now he feared it was a glimpse into the future.

At that moment Katy was facing a dragon, not the one Elrond feared, but one just as terrifying. The beast inside of her stomach, gnawing at her innards, was the dragon of hunger. She sat, perched in a tree, clutching her stomach and wishing for a good hot meal. She had been following the group for a day now and they were passing through the wooded areas just before they reached the foot of the mountain. She had plenty of food, nuts and berries, but she yearned for more of the delicious jerky and sausages that the drwarves were cooking up at that moment. The smell was wafting up into her tree from the clearing they had chosen to rest in.

She played with the hem of her long tunic, admiring the stitched pattern, and obstinately ignoring her stomach. What she really wanted was a meat lover's pizza. No. Don't think about food! She groaned and dropped her hand into her lap.

"Ahem."

She dropped her eyes to the forest floor and paused.

Bilbo stood, bare foot and travel worn, staring about at her with crossed arms.

"How's it going?" she asked casually. Keeping the situation light was always her go to move when caught in a pickle and it had yet to fail her. She had gotten out of plenty of trouble by keeping a smile on her face and she was loath to admit defeat now.

"It could be worse," Bilbo responded just as casually before dropping his arms to his side, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going with," she answered simply.

"So that's what you meant by 'we'. You could have just said," Bilbo scrutinized her curiously as if she were dumb as a sack of potatoes, recalling the night before in Rivendell when she had reassured him that they would not be there to witness the consequences of burning Lord Elrond's furniture.

"Yeah, because they would totally want an elf along on their quest," she shot back sarcastically.

Bilbo paused, mouth open, before shutting it with a click of his teeth. He glanced back through the trees into the clearing where a fire could be seen and several loud voices could be heard. There was much laughter, as there always was with their group, and it covered up their conversation nicely.

"What are you doing away from the camp anyways?" Katy questioned, turning so that her legs dangled from the tree limb she was perched on.

"I, uh . . .you know . . ."he lifted his hand, floundering for a polite way to phrase it.

Katy stared at him uncomprehendingly until she mouthed an 'oh' and snorted with laughter. "In any case, you probably shouldn't mention me to them," she said after her fit of laughter.

"It's a bit late for that," another voice said.

Fili stood at the edge of her small clearing with his arms crossed. He wore a slightly amused expression on his face though he tried to remain stoic. He glanced back at the fire before moving closer to Bilbo. "Some of us may be a bit more prejudice than others but a Dragon Charmer is something we could use on this journey."

"Bless your logical heart," Katy said with a smile. She jumped from the branch and landed softly on the ground some feet below before brushing off her pants. "In truth it was Gandalf who told me to come," she explained, "and I kind of wanted a reason to leave Rivendell. I haven't been allowed to leave without escort for three years."

"That seems rather unfair," Bilbo added. He could not imagine the elves withholding anyone from freedom, they themselves representing all that was good and fair in the world. Imladris was many things but his mind would not allow him to view it as a prison.

"Well, apparently I have a knack for getting into mortal danger and Lord Elrond thought it best," she mimicked his grave tone irritably before picking up her bag that had been resting against the tree.

"Be that as it may, I am sure Thorin will welcome you on this quest, you are not like the other elves at least," Fili said. He turned, heading back towards the fire, leaving Bilbo and Katy to share a glance before following.

"No," Thorin declared.

Katy's shoulders fell and she let out a sigh. They had joined the others by the fire and upon her humble entrance the group had immediately fallen silent. Thorin had stood and practically glowered at her. She should have known it wouldn't have played out in her favor. But, despite Thorin's reluctance to allow her to accompany them, she knew she had to. This was a part of why she had found the ring in the first place. At the thought of it she glanced down at her finger, observing its soft and reassuring glow in the fire light, before straightening her stance. It would lend her courage if need be. Though she had only heard its voice a handful of times she knew it to be a kind and courageous thing, and joyful too. The first thing she had ever head was the smooth laughter of it when she slid it onto her finger for the first time.

"I'm afraid that if you do not allow me to join you, then I will simply follow, as I have been asked to accompany you as the Dragon Charmer not an elf," she stated. She watched as Thorin stared at her coldly. She was gearing herself up for a good argument. She had always been rather good at bending logic to suit her, though it had back fired on her several times in her life, nevertheless she would not back down from this.

"By who?" he asked darkly.

"Gandalf himself," she answered.

The company around them were silent, watching on in weary curiosity. They had varying opinions of her, most leaning more towards the positive after she spent the night with them spinning her tales of the past, but the idea of allowing an elf on their journey was troubling. They had never gotten along with the joyous creatures even before the king of the woodland realm had turned his back on them in their time of need. Elves and dwarves had rivaling personalities, the dwarves more boorish and content to toil away in their mountains, while the elves were polite and enjoyed the open skies and trees.

"We made no agreement to add a fifteenth member. We agreed on fourteen and the last position was filled by Mr. Baggins himself," Thorin shot back. He grew weary of offering promises of their rightful treasure, already he had pawned off more than they were willing to part with on their journeys. Though there was much treasure stowed away within their mountain he felt that it was their birthright and was loath to hand any of it out.

Bilbo jumped, hearing his name brought up in the argument, and wrung his hands nervously. The two made quite the image, both standing at their full heights and glaring at one another in the firelight, eyes blazing. He worried that they would come to blows. He was not completely sure who would come out on top, though he was leaning more towards Thorin, but he did not know what Katy herself was capable of and so his opinion was biased. He knew this and reevaluated his judgment upon seeing the growing fury in the Dragon Charmer's eyes.

"I didn't realize this was an exclusive club," she snapped. "You gloat about your grand quest to reclaim your home but refuse help when offered? Would you not agree that this goes beyond prejudice? There is an entire kingdom at stake and you would not allow me, one of the few who have faced Smaug himself and survived, to aid you? I did not think you to be someone so petty!" She rambled off her argument so quickly and fiercely that the dwarf hardly had a chance to get a word in edgewise. She held them all in such high regard, knowing what they would do and accomplish, and was utterly dumbfounded by their behavior. Clearly the past was not all honor and righteousness as she had been inclined to believe.

"Thorin," Balin spoke up from the other side of the fire. He was always the one to remain levelheaded in such heated situations and who could clearly see the benefit of bringing the elf woman along, strange though she may be, she would undoubtedly be of use later down the road. He knew the way their quest took them, knew of the forests and dangers they would come across, and the elves that would stand in their way.

Throrin turned to look at his advisor and friend, angry and feeling more than a bit betrayed, but he let out a heavy sigh and growled, "Your life is not my responsibility." He clenched his fists as he spoke and when he had finished he looked as if there was more that he wanted to say but thought better of it. Instead he returned to his seat beside the fire, glowering at the flickering flames, and said no more that night.

"Dwarves," she growled and threw her bag to the ground next to Bilbo, dropping onto the soft grass, and plunked herself down next to it. Of all the races of Middle Earth, of all the people and creatures she had met, she had never run across one she could not reason with (besides Goblins of course but she hadn't exactly gotten a chance).

It was irritating, traveling with the dwarves, Katy soon realized. They had grown quiet and awkward around her, some would shoot her curious or suspicious looks and others would try to spark up small talk with her if only to ease the tension, but Thorin refused to acknowledge her existence. She chose to ignore them all, to annoyed to bother with them, and focused her thoughts elsewhere. She walked alongside the group, far enough not to draw their attention, but close enough to still be considered a part of it. She walked casually, finding the terrain easy for her to navigate while the dwarves struggled. Bilbo had joined her, she realized, as he too found that he could nimbly move about the rocky and equally grassy plains with his sturdy hobbit feet.

"So where did you say you were from, exactly?" Bilbo spoke after hours of silence. He had taken to stopping and studying the plant life or occasional insect that they came across. He was so intrigued with the strange things that he had never found in The Shire and felt something deep within him stirring every time he discovered something new. His eyes were slowly being opened to the world around him that he had never dreamed of exploring inside his hobbit hole. Katy had turned to glance back at him on serveral occasions, catching him prodding some life form or smiling at a new flower. It caused her own lips to quirk into a small smile. He was so humble and inquisitive, kind hearted and curious, that she found her heart warming to him quickly. But his constant needling of her history and upbringing was grating against her last nerve.

Katy let out a loaded sigh, understanding that her time of quiet contemplation was over, and shot the hobbit a withering look. "I didn't," she deadpanned. She eyed him wearily. Bilbo Baggins would one day write down the very story they were living in a red book, one that would later be continued by Frodo Baggins, she knew. And some day in the very distant future the story would be retold by Tolkien himself and would become a classic, later made into movies, and spread across the world. But how had Tolkien come across the story? He would have had to get ahold of that red book to know what had happened. She fingered the ring on her hand absently while she pondered and a small thought grew in the back of her mind.

"I'm from the future," she said simply some minutes later.

"The future?" Bilbo's brows crashed together in confusion as he tried to process what she had said. He dropped his eyes to the ground in front of him while he walked.

"Yes, a future of only man. The world is dying. There is no more magic," she explained. "And it is my job to fix it," she smiled down at the hobbit who was now watching her in surprise, "I'm not even actually an elf. I was human."

"What? How?" he stammered, nearly tripping over a stone.

"I won't bore you with the details, but needless to say, I have a very important duty to uphold and this might just be a big part of it." She finished, turning her eyes back to the growing mountain range, thoughts of her old life flitting through her head. She tried not to let her mind wonder to her home too often, as it more than not left her head buzzing with modern chatter and background noise: her friends and family talking and laughing, car engines and bicycle bells, the smell of new books and sun screen. Strange things she would never string together on a normal basis would plague her and cause an overwhelming wave of nostalgia to wash over her.

When they finally reached the mountains, though it was a more gradual change of their surroundings than it may sound, Katy had thought they would take a break. But it would seem that Thorin had other ideas in mind. He wanted to put as much distance between them and Rivendell as possible, it would seem, and they pressed on. Even when it began to storm. The dark clouds had piled up around the mountains and released their cargo with no mercy for the tired and worn group. Katy was only glad that she had thought to wear her cloak and pulled the hood up over her head.

They struggled, tripping and stumbling, into the mountains like a drunken gathering of midgets she thought. She felt rather odd to be the tallest of the group for, although she was a bit taller than average, she had never towered over people like she did amongst the company. It was not until hours later that they realized the thunder storm was more of a cover up for the giant wrestling rock monsters of the mountains. Balin had exclaimed something along the lines of "The Legends are true!" before all hell broke loose and they were caught up in their battle. They nearly lost Bilbo but Thorin had come to his rescue just in time.

Katy had seen them first as she had known of their existence and had been keeping an eye open for their lumbering forms. She had been trudging behind Dwalin when she had felt something shift, like the air had suddenly grown lighter, and she heard the distant rumble of crumbling rock. She paused, her boots scuffing against the rock, and lifted her head to gaze about the mountains. The dwarves kept walking, blissfully unaware of what she had just sensed, but she turned back the way they had come. She watched the path and deep valley they had just trekked through, noting that everything was still just before a great figure stepped around a mountain. It was made completely of rock and shaped like an imposing man of great build. It did not take notice of them as they were like sugar ants in comparison to it but stepped forward searchingly.

By then Balin had taken notice and he cried out, sending the other dwarves into a frenzy as they all turned to take in the figure that was soon challenged by another, rising up from the other side of the mountains to meet it.

Katy watched on as the giants fought, mesmerized, while they lobed rocks at one another. The sound of the great boulders hitting the mountainside was masked by the rolling thunder of the storm above. She suddenly felt entirely too small for her liking and very much exposed. It was honestly kind of awkward, like being over at a friend's house while their parents were arguing, but in a much more exaggerated and frightening manor.

She glanced down at Bilbo, who had stepped up to her side, and muttered, "Couldn't see that from your hobbit hole."

He nodded absently in far too much awe to really take notice of her.

But they were entirely too exposed and when the giants came too close for comfort, one of them stumbled, crashing into the mountain and sent the company scattering. Half of them leapt across the way, finding themselves separated, but continued to watch as a third giant appeared, sliding around the mountain as gracefully as any creature could, and threw a rock at one of the others. The rock caught one in the head and it stumbled back, crashing into the mountain where Balin, Bilbo, Ori, and Kili had taken cover.

"No!" Thorin cried out, lunging forward and scrambling along the steep mountain path. "Kili!" he called out in desperation. The thought of his nephew dead, crushed beneath a layer of rock, sent his heart hammering in desperation. It was too much to bear! He nearly fell as he came around a corner in time to here Balin answer his cry with an urgent "We're alright!"

Katy and the rest of the group came up behind him to take in the sight of their dust covered friends.

"Where's Bilbo?"Bofur shouted over the storm, "Where's the hobbit?" He could not see the little creature anywhere amongst their group.

"There!" Ori shouted, pointing to the ledge where a pair of small hands could just be seen peeking over the edge of the cliff.

"Get him!" Dwalin grunted.

It was a mad dash to reach for the falling hobbit but with much struggle, and some heroics on Thorin's part, they managed to pull him to safety. He stood in the group, trembling and wet from rain, patting down his clothes as if he were surprised that he had made it out alive. Katy patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. She could sympathize with him. She had survived many a close call by the skin of her teeth and there was nothing quite like the jellifying relief of realizing you had just barely escaped with your life. She recalled a time when just making it to class before the bell rang had given her the same feeling. How her life had changed. When she had written a paper on where she thought she would be ten years into the future she had never imagined she would find herself in the past, trudging through a muddy mountain range with a group of grumpy dwarves.

"I thought we had lost our burglar," Dwalin commented in amusement, noting the expression of utter relief Bilbo wore.

"He's been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come with us. He has no place amongst us," Thorin growled. He was wet, tired, and irritable and the troublesome hobbit was proving too be much more of a risk than he had ever thought possible. He ignored the stunned look he received from the hobbit and the angered one from the she-elf before barking, "Dwalin!"

Katy had blown a piece of hair out of her face, watching as the dwarves talked among each other, deciding on what to do. Elf she may be but tired and lazy she was also and when they had chosen to search for a cave so that they could rest for the night she had wanted to cry in joy. She could not handle anymore rock giants and irritable dwarves without sleep. Or coffee. But she knew she wouldn't be getting any of that for a while. She resisted the urge to continue glowering at Thorin and turned her attention to the exhausted hobbit at her side.

So, covered in scrapes and bruises, they all huddled into a small cave and fumbled about to set up camp. Mostly they just dropped to the soft sand covered ground and fell asleep upon contact. Katy laid out her blanket and flopped on top of it, not bothering to remove her bag from her shoulders.

There was tension among the group that night. It had originally been decided that they would wait in the mountains for Gandalf but Thorin would have none of it now. He was tired of waiting and the urgency to reach the mountain in time grew ever more present in his mind. Regardless of the approaching deadline Balin still felt it would have been best to await the return of their wizard guide, but he was not the leader of their group, only the advisor, and thus he could not make the final decision. He let out a sigh and turned away from Thorin to make himself comfortable between the rocks of the cave.

Bofur watched on as his friends took to the dream world, nervous of their situation, and a bit frustrated by Thorin's obstinate need to continue on regardless of the wizard's advice. He too wished to return to their homeland, to breathe in the mountain air, and feel gold between his fingers, but it did not haunt him like he knew it did Thorin. He had a clear head still. He knew there were many dangers yet ahead of them and he was well aware that many of them they did not even know of. He glanced over at the woman among their group where she had dropped to the ground hesitantly; perhaps she would be of some assistance in that department. Elves were very wise creatures, even human turned elves, it would seem.

He grunted and made himself comfortable against a boulder, pulling at his pipe to chew on in thought, and turned his gaze out towards the rain.

Katy did not wake until a few hours later to the hushed voices of Bilbo and Bufor. She tried not to eavesdrop but the topic of their discussion hit rather close with her and she found herself wishing that she could return to her old apartment and sit on her couch, maybe play her guitar or watch some TV. She rolled over on her blanket pulling her cloak closer around her and stared at the rock wall in front of her.

"You can't turn back now," she heard Bofur exclaimed in a hushed whisper, "You're part of the company. You're one of us."

"I'm not though, am I?" Bilbo said sadly, "Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I'm not a Took. I'm a Baggins. I don't know what I was thinking."

The hobbit sounded so distraught and depressed that Katy wished she could give him a hug. But to do that she would have admit that she had been listening in on their conversation. At the thought her eyes flitted over to Thorin who was against the far wall, just within her view, who was staring into the distance and doing the same as she. The two made eye contact, she annoyed and he ashamed, and the dwarf dropped his gaze to the dirt floor beneath him.

Good, she thought, at least he still had the mind to feel guilty about his harsh words.

"You're homesick," Bofur realized, "I understand."

"No you don't! You don't understand!" Bilbo whispered harshly. "None of you do – you're dwarves. You're used to- to this kind of life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere."

There was silence between the two, obviously the words said were regretted the minute they had left the hobbit's mouth, and he stammered. Trying to apologize, ashamed of what he had thoughtlessly said. Katy winced, knowing how embarrassed and aghast the hobbit was, and how hurt Bofur would be but knowing he would not show it. She too had been in a similar situation with friends in the past and knew from experience that it was not pleasant. There was a heavy awkwardness about the cave then.

"No, you're right, we don't belong anywhere," Bofur mumbled quietly. "I wish you all the luck in the world, I really do." He reached out, grasping the hobbit by the shoulder reassuringly and smiled a sad smile.

"What's that?" Bofur questioned.

Katy sat up, only just then remembering the events that had yet come to pass, and so she was a little more prepared when the floor split open beneath them and sent them all hurdling deep into the caverns. The group that had been not so peacefully resting within their borrowed shelter were sent hurtling down a dark hole with no end in sight. It was both a comforting and terrifying aspect of their fall. She could not help it, a scream escaped her throat while they all tumbled into the abyss, and the only thought that penetrated her panic was that it reminded her of a slide. For that merest of a second she imagined she was a kid again playing at the local Chuck-E-Cheese in the play set. But that was all it took.

Suddenly she was not surrounded by rock and screaming dwarves but by the plastic of a green children's slide at Chuck=E-Cheese. The slide dumped her out into a colorful ball pit. She fell with more force than the short slide would have warranted, even for someone her size, and sent the thousands of colorful toys flying through the air only to fall on top of her and burry her beneath an avalanche of colors. She blinked in stunned surprise, feeling so utterly lost and bewildered at the moment that her brain had yet to catch up with her. What had just happened?

"Watch it lady!" snapped an annoyed kid, probably around eight or ten, who had been playing in the pit when she came barreling through.

Katy popped her head above the surface, spluttering against the hair in her face, and glanced around in alarm. "Sorry!" she chirped. She stood, the ball pit was filled just up to her stomach, and glanced about for an exit. She could only imagine what she looked like to the people at the Chuck-E-Cheese that day. A woman dressed in mediaeval garb, weapons and all, dirty and covered in bruises.

She remembered playing in the same ball pit when she was younger and she briefly wondered what year it was before shaking her head. It would do her no good to dawdle in the past, technically the future, but she had not the mind to pay attention.

She wadded over to another tunnel, this one blue, and pulled herself out of the ball pit before crawling through into a small netted chamber. Above her was a trap door, large enough for her to fit through, and she pushed it open.

The smell of dank mold and decay wafted over her and a low light spilled across her face. Hesitantly she pushed it open, lifting herself out onto the wooden surface, and found herself at the center of every goblin and dwarf's attention under the misty mountains. She froze, halfway out of the trap door, staring at all the eyes watching her, and mustered a nervous smile.

"Wrong door?" she said skittishly before pulling herself all the way through and shutting it behind her. The last thing she needed was a hoard of goblins making their way into modern day America. The thought alone sobered her up. She had to be more careful with her entrances.

"An elf!" The largest of all the goblins cried, he sat atop a throne of wood and bones, gut spilling out over his lap and chest. He was a grizzly image and she struggled not to comment on it. It was alreay a dangerous enough situation without her running her mouth.

The goblins all cried out in anger and moved to jump on her but Thorin had grabbed her by the shoulder as he stepped forward and pushed her back into the company. They closed ranks around her and she was left with nothing of sight but their backs. She found herself feeling grateful towards Thorin then and fought the smirk that pulled at her lips. He really did care. He just didn't like to show it.

"Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror; King under the mountain." The gobblin king spoke. He drawled out each syllable and leaned forward, a grin stretching across his grotesque face. "Oh, but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain. And you are not a king. Which makes you nobody, really. I know somebody who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, and old enemy of yours. A pale orc astride a white warg."

The whole company of dwarves, Katy included, grew still as Thorin stared up at the disgusting heap of flesh in surprise. "Azog the defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle years ago," Thorin shot back. He glowered up at the goblin from beneath heavy brows.

"Send word," the king of Goblins ordered. The goblins grew restless than, antsy and excited for blood.

Katy fumbled, pushing herself to her feet, reaching for the blade at her hip. She knew what was coming but she had no way of avoiding it. She would be drawn into the fight with the rest of the dwarves and yet she could only hope that her years of training had paid off and she would not get herself killed. She watched as the goblins rushed about, wheeling forth tools for torture while their leader sang of their deaths, and wished that someone would break the building tension within their company. Just one person to make the first move so that she could end the nerve wracking wait. She tightened the grip on the hilt of her sword, hearing her leather gloves creak against the metal, and swallowed. Somewhere to her right she could hear Bofur clicking his tongue impatiently and just to her left Dwalin was grinding his teeth.

"I know that sword!"

Katy focused on the Great Goblin, as he coward on his throne at the mere sight of a sword, ordered his troops to attack, and even when the hordes of nasty creatures rained down upon them. She watched as all hell broke out around them but she did not move, safe within the circle of dwarves, she did not budge. Her eyes shifted the merest of fractions when Thorin was brought to the ground, a blade hovering over his neck, and then she moved.

A flash of light blasted all those to their feet down and blew out any lit torches in the immediate area.

"Take up arms, you fools, and fight!" Snapped Gandalf for it was he that stood amongst the dying light, sword and staff held high for all to see.

"He wields the Foe-Hammer!"

Oh shut up, Katy thought irritably, and pulled her sword from its sheath in time to fight off an approaching goblin. She lifted her sword to catch his wildly swung dagger and kicked him in the stomach, sending him over the edge of the wooden platform.

And just like that they were on the run. It was a mess of goblin, dwarf, wizard and elf. All cutting slashing, and jumping over fallen foes in their mad dash to escape the clutches of the goblins. If it were not for the swords Katy would have assumed they were racing! Originally when she had first watched the films years back it had seemed like it was a pretty straightforward path with Gandalf leading the way and the dwarves providing defense against oncoming goblins, but now she saw that it was anything but. They all ran up and down catwalks and suspended paths, over bridges and under them, avoiding the troublesome creatures. When she took a moment between goblins to think about the situation she struggled not to let out a laugh. They were ridiculous! The company was so disorganized, each running their own way, that the goblins were having trouble pinning any of them down. It was the adrenalin she knew, causing her to see the hilarity of the situation, but she could not resist its pull. She had dealt with goblins before and while they were just as dangerous as any dark creature of Middle Earth she had found their antics and wiliness amusing.

"This way!" Gandalf called. "To me!"

And just like that organization was restored. They all turned towards the wizard from separate platforms scattered about the main cavern and fought their way to him. Once they had all gathered Gandalf lead the way in a charge down the largest of the catwalks, brandishing staff and sword, and crying out for the others to follow.

Katy was unlucky enough to be at the end of the group, which meant she could either turn and fight and fall behind, or run like mad and hope she could keep up. Needless to say she did not choose the dwarven approach that day. She wanted to be left behind in a cavern full to the brim with goblins as about as much as she wanted to jump from a plane without a parachute.

They poured onto a platform, swinging their swords and axes about while the goblins cornered them.

"Cut the ropes!" Thorin shouted.

Katy turned to see dozens of the creatures swinging towards them on ropes, waving their weapons about as they drew closer. The ropes supporting a near by path were cut and the ramshackle thing fell, falling into the chasm beneath them, and catching the ropes of the airborne goblins as it fell and pulling them after it.

She did not have time to admire the event though, as much as she wanted to.

They continued through the caverns, batting aside goblins in the most ludicrous ways possible, causing her to let out a bark of laugh each time. Bofur ran by her, chuckling like mad, with a pole pilfered from the railings held out in front of him and clotheslined three goblins at once.

When they had swung across the empty chasm on a piece of suspended walk way cut loose by Fili and Kili, Katy had thought her stomach would leap out of her throat. She was among the first group to jump across to the other side. She turned in time to see the rest of the group swing away, still standing upon the swinging bridge, and ran to the edge as more goblins jumped onto them. When it swung back to her the rest of the group jumped off and they continued down the path that Gandalf laid for them.

The old wizard was rather spry for his supposed age, Katy observed wryly. She had never seen an old man run ahead of a group of dwarves, brandishing sword and staff, with as much vigor as he. Of course she had never seen and old man in a similar situation to compare theirs to but I digress.

When the wizard had knocked a part of the cavern wall loose, allowing a boulder to come free and roll downhill squashing goblins as it went she had chuckled. "Indiana Jones has nothing on this," she muttered. Kili sent her a confused but equally as amused look from over his shoulder. He was rather enjoying himself. He had not had the opportunity to put his full skills to the test in his life time, and while he had been in several close calls, it had never been to that magnitude.

It seemed they were all running off of hysterical adrenalin. But then again, she thought, the dwarves were generally pleased by any sort of battle.

In the end it was Gandalf who killed the Great Goblin. They had piled up upon a bridge where he stood, awaiting their arrival with crossed arms.

"You thought you could escape me?" he asked with a laugh.

Gandalf did not waste any time, while the Goblin King taunted him with threats of power he swung his sword across the belly of the monstrosity and sent him falling to his death. As soon as his knees hit the bridge, however, the whole thing shook, creaked, and then fell out from under them. By this point of the day, Katy was over it, so over it that even as they fell with the bridge she did not bother screaming . She knew she would survive the fall, probably, as all the dwarves and Gandalf himself did in the films. The chunk of bridge that they were all clinging to seemed to be holding together quite well despite the beating it was taking as it traveled down through the cavern, knocking into other walkways as it went. They slid to the very bottom, smashing into the hard cave floor, and were sent flying from the bridge just was the body of the Great Goblin crashed down on its remains. The majority of the dwarves were squashed beneath him, moaning and groaning, and cursing their luck.

"You had to open your mouth, Bofur," Fili snapped from beneath a piece of the railing and the stinking arm of the goblin, replaying the muttered "at least it can't get an worse" over and over in his head. He pushed them both away and brushed off his tunic irritably.

Kili chuckled, "That was brilliant." He pulled himself from the mess and looked up, adjusting his belt, and blanched. "Gandalf!" he called, drawing the wizard's attention to the hundreds of goblins making their way down the cavern walls towards them.

"There is too many!" Dwalin cried, tightening his grip on his axe.

"There is only one thing that can save us: Daylight!" Gandalf cried, urging the dwarves to regain their footing.

Katy stood and watched as they hurried to pull each other out of the wreckage. She had drawn her bow by that point but she knew no amount of arrows would be able to do any good against the sheer numbers heading their way. She had never before stood in front of such a large force, tearing towards them, and she was nearly frozen with fear. She had dealt with goblins on several occasions, yes, but she had never seen so many thirsting for her blood. Well, their blood. She glanced over to the dwarves in admiration. They seemed urgent and desperate but she saw no fear in their eyes.

It was a short trip through the small caverns then, following a path that Katy knew all too well as she and the twins had stumbled upon the same doorway that loomed ahead of them, spilling daylight into the caves. The thought brought back memories of their adventures and she felt her stride quicken though if she really wanted to she could have outrun the dwarves easily. How she longed for the presence of the twins and their mirthful gazes.

They rushed out into open air, stumbling down the mountain side and into the trees, when they finally came to a halt in a small clearing at the edge of a cliff the sun had begun to set. Katy slowed to a stop, panting slightly, and turned to take in the path they had just traveled. If the sun was setting then they would not have long before the goblins followed them. She and the twins had been lucky enough to pop out of the mountains in the early day light and had not had to worry about the little slime balls following them.

"Where's Bilbo?" Gandalf asked, concern growing into panic. "Where is our hobbit?!" He had counted the heads of all in their company twice over but he had not spotted the smallest of their group once since he arrived to save them.

Katy scanned the trees around them, her eyes perceiving nothing in the growing darkness, but she knew the hobbit was skulking about. She could hear the dwarves throwing a fit over the missing hobbit once again cursing their luck.

"Tell me what happened!" Gandalf demanded.

"I'll tell you what happened," Thorin stepped up onto a protruding boulder to gain a bit of height amongst the group. "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door. We will not be seeing our hobbit again. He is long gone," he snarled. Thorin turned to look at Gandalf, challenging him to speak out against him.

Katy stepped forward, bow still in hand, and was only stayed by the hesitant voice that spoke up from behind her.

"No, he isn't," Bilbo stated pointedly with much fidgeting on his part.

Katy watched as Thorin stepped back, a resigned expression on his face, and resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. She had grown fond of the dwarf despite his attitude, but she found her patients wearing thin, as it seemed the closer they got to The Lonely Mountain the more foul he became. It was not him, she reconciled herself, but the lust for gold and power that was growing within him. The same thing that had claimed his grandfather. She only wished he would snap out of it as he was truly an honorable and magnificent person and she knew she was not the only one to think so when her eyes trailed to Balin standing next to him. He was watching his king with a troubled and saddened expression.

"Bilbo Baggins, I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life!" Gandalf cried. He leaned on his staff in relief, smiling down at the hobbit endearingly.

Bilbo shuffled forward in that nervous way he had and patted Balin on the shoulder, glad to see that the old dwarf had made it out of the mountain alive. He felt beaten and tired and more than a bit annoyed with one specific dwarf in particular but nonetheless pleased to have survived. Not to mention he had found a pretty little thing that had a bit of magic to it. He fingered the ring in his hands, laughing with the dwarves as they congratulated him, before sliding it into his pocket for safe keeping.

Katy watched as Bilbo did so and then turned her eyes to Gandalf whom she was surprised to find watching her curiously. There was a question in his eyes and although she knew what it pertained to she did not know the specific meaning behind his scrunched brows and pursed lips. She simply shook her head once. Gandalf looked down at the ground before quickly turning his eyes to the hobbit.

"How on Earth did you get past the goblins?" Fili asked with a laugh.

"How indeed?" Dwalin added darkly.

Bilbo stumbled to give them a good answer, not sure why he felt it necessary to hide the existence of the ring he had found. He laughed awkwardly, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head as if he were bewildered by the past events.

"We'll, what does it matter? He is back!" Gandalf exclaimed with a forced smile.

Bilbo smiled, glad to no longer be in the spotlight, and sent a curious look in Katy's direction.

"It matters," Thorin spoke up. He had had the decency to look thoroughly shamefaced when Bilbo had come into view of the others and now he had stepped forward once more. "I want to know: Why did you come back to us?" He stared intently at the hobbit.

Bilbo sighed through his nose, looking the dwarf king thoughtfully before opening his mouth, "Look, I know you doubt me, I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my Armchair. And my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back, because you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can." Though he had finished speaking his mouth kept moving as if he had more to say but did not quite know how to phrase it. There were many emotions warring within him but chief among them was sympathy and hope. A new want to see these dwarves returned to their rightful home had blossomed within him and he found that each day it only grew bigger and brighter the further he got from his own.

Gandalf smiled at the creature for Bilbo had just proven why he had felt it so necessary to have a hobbit along on their journey. They were such a humble but brave people when push came to shove. If you could get them out of their homes, that is. You might actually have to shove.

Katy smiled, feeling the tell-tale signs of tears coming on, and struggled not to let them fall in front of the dwarves. Their opinion of her would probably plummet if they were to see her tears of joy.

Thorin stared at him, awestruck, and speechless.

The moment was ruined by the distant snarling of foul beasts. The howls echoed off the mountains and washed over the group, causing their hair to stand on end, and their hands to reach for their weapons.

"Out of the frying pain . . ."Thorin growled.

"And into the fire," Gandalf finished tiredly.

They did not bother to stand and fight, there was no doubt that they were outnumbered, and so turned and ran. Leaping over stones and fallen trees they hurried down the mountain as fast as their heavily laden figures could move.

Katy held her bow with one hand, the other reaching for an arrow, prepared to take aim the second she could see their enemy. She did not have to wait long. She glanced over her shoulder, spotting an orc astride a warg, barreling through the trees after them. Several more followed behind him, all snarling and frothing at the mouth, their eyes lit with a lust for blood. She looked ahead, realizing that they were drawing near the cliff, they would not make it any further without a stand. She slid to a stop, turning as she did, and knocked an arrow taking aim at the front most warg. Her aim was true. The warg, now sporting an arrow through the center of its head, stumbled and rolled, crushing the orc atop it in the process, and lay dead.

Several more approached quickly, coming too close for comfort, but the dwarves dispatched each of them easily. It wass not until they come upon the cliff that they realized there was no choice but to turn and fight, like Katy had already learned, but as they fumbled to a stop Gandalf spoke up.

"Into the trees! Hurry!"

They rushed to do as he said, jumping and grabbing onto low hanging branches, pushing and pulling each other into the trees in a panic.

"Come on Bilbo, climb!" Gandalf exclaimed from his perch.

Bilbo stood over a fallen warg, jiggling the hilt of his blade, long since stuck within the wargs head. Blood spurted out each time he pulled and yanked as the beast died but he was beginning to fear it would be no use. Ahead of him several more of the beasts were slithering through the trees, closer and closer to them, and more specifically Bilbo who had yet to make it up a tree.

"Come on, you," Katy grunted, she grabbed Bilbo's hand and the hilt of his sword in one, and pulled. The sword came free with a sickening squelch and she pushed him towards the nearest tree. The hobbit scrabled up easily enough and Katy followed him, coming to a stop on the large branch just to his left. She crouched, staring down at the beasts that now overran the cliff side, barking and howling. She knocked another arrow and shot one directly below them, watching as it rolled away in its death throes. Two more took its place, barking and snarling up at them, tearing at the tree to get to them.

Suddenly they all stopped, turning to watch the approach of a large white Orc on an equally as pale warg. He sat astride the beast wearing a disgusting smile, showing off his jagged teeth, and spoke in the dark language.

"Do you smell it? The scent of fear?" he asked, smirking when the orcs around him chuckled darkly. "I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin, son of Thrain."

"It cannot be," Thorin's voice cracked. His father, whom he had the bleakest of hopes was still alive, had been captured and killed by Azog himself. His heart clenched. Of all the things his people had suffered since their home was taken . . .he closed his eyes against the raging emotions.

"Kill the others," Azog orders, "But that one is mine." He lifted his mace, gesturing to Thorin himself, and laughed when the wargs and orcs once more took up the offense. More vicious than before.

The tree that she and Bilbo were in was the first to fall. Its roots were torn from the ground by the weight of the wargs throwing themselves against it and with little that could be done it toppled over into the next tree. Katy, Bilbo, and the few dwarves in their tree were forced to jump over to the next tree. Scrabbling for purchase, Katy was hanging by her hands, dangerously low over a warg. She felt its breath on her legs and she struggled to swing herself up into the branch. Despite her best efforts the warg still managed to get ahold of her ankle and she cried out, kicking at his nose brutally, and spitting in his direction when he yelped and stumbled away.

She mentally added orcs and wargs to the list of creatures she could not reason with.

She thought that, once she had made it safely into the other tree she could relax, but as soon as she was settled amongst the branches she heard the telltale creaking of straining wood. She groaned, watching as the dwarves moved over to the next set of branches and into another tree. Not ten minutes later they all found themselves in the last tree, teetering over the edge of the cliff precariously, staring down at the ground far below cross eyed. It was Gandalf who made the next move, reaching for a pine cone he lifted it between his hands and blew into it, and a small flame flickered to life. He threw it at the offending wargs, smirking when it bounced off the back of one, catching it alight, and sending it howling into the night. Everyone grabbed pine cones after that, handing them up to the wizard who lit them and passed them about, and flinging them at their enemies.

What a sport, Katy thought in dry humor.

The tree lurched beneath them, leaning towards the edge, and sent a few of the dwarves swinging with only their meager grip on the branches saving them from the fatal fall. Katy had used the trunk of the tree to support her, laying against it while she took aim with her bow, and fired shots at unsuspecting orcs.

The tree lurched again.

The fire had roared to life across the cliff side, licking at their own tree threateningly, and throwing grotesque shadows across the already ugly creatures that surrounded them. Thorin stood from the tree anger and determination swelling within him, urging him forward. He stepped over protruding branches, walking along the trunk of the tree, surrounded by fire. He pulled his sword from his side and held it aloft as he walked. When he stepped onto solid ground once more he glowered at the leader of the orc pack.

Katy paused in the firing of her arrows, watching as the king descended onto the forest floor and approached Azog. It was a brutal fight. One that Thorin could not win alone. Azog on top of his warg was too much for any one dwarf to handle. Had it been any other orc Katy was certain Thorin would have come out on top, but it wasn't, it was Azog the defiler. He was as old as Thorin himself, if not older, and had centuries of experience and cruelty inside him.

Around her the dwarves cried out for Thorin, urging him to fight, to get up, or fearing the seemingly inevitable fall awaiting them. She pushed herself away from the trunk, getting to her feet, and stepped down onto the ground. Bow raised and arrow knocked she took aim at the pale orc. If she could end it here and now she could save the dwarves, elves, and humans from the oncoming battle. Maybe not all together, but it would not be as difficult without the general to lead their forces, and many lives would probably be saved including the line of Durin.

The world seemed to slow down around her. All eyes were focused on the Azog and Thorin, no one paying attention to the woman with an arrow aimed at the orcs heart. She could do it. She took a breath, her pupils contracting, and steadied her aim. She could do it and reach her goals sooner than ever and she could return home to her family.

But it was not to be. Just as she loosened her grip something slammed into her side with the force of a freight train. The wind was knocked from her lungs instantly and she loosed the arrow. It flew off into the trees in a random direction and she was sent sprawling across the ground, rolling on impact, and right over the edge of the cliff.

"Katelyn!" Somebody shouted.

She hit the trunk of a tree, falling down the steep slope, and continued to roll several yards before coming to a stop against an outcrop of boulders. Her bow came clattering down after her and fell against her still form.


	4. Chapter 3

"Katy, you're going to be late for school."

Katy opened her eyes to her bedroom in her mother's house. She was curled up in bed, the comforter pulled over her shoulders, and bleary from sleep. The sun was just streaming in through her window and lighting the small room. She could feel its warmth on her toes. Her father was standing over her wearing a stern expression that quickly morphed into amusement.

"I don't wanna go," she mumbled, pulling the blanket over her head and blocking out the oncoming light.

"Why not?" he asked, dumbfounded by her sudden lack of excitement towards school. She had always loved going to school.

"It's hard," she whined.

"Since when have you found school hard?" he exclaimed with a laugh.

She did not respond right away, taking a moment to think deeply about her situation. "Since I found out about the star, and the magic, and had to fight a dragon."

"Star? Dragon? I think you just had a really good dream and don't want to wake up from it," he said lightly. He sat down on the side of her bed and pulled the blanket off of her face.

"It's not a dream, it's real, and it's scary!" she defended.

"Scary never stopped you," her father responded.

"No?" she perked up curiously, lifting her head from her pillow.

"Nah, remember when your brother bet you that you wouldn't climb that rock wall and then you did, and beat him on top of it?" he reminded her, resting a hand on her head lovingly. "You just have to want it, that's all. You just have to prove that you can do it to yourself."

She sat up, pushing the covers away to reveal her ten year old self with tired eyes and sleep mussed hair. She met her father's gaze with a sad smile and the sight of him brought tears to her eyes. She blinked, rubbing at her eyes, and met his loving gaze again before allowing her eyes to slide over his shoulder to the doorway where another figure stood. Her father cocked his head curiously and looked over his shoulder to the person in the doorway and smiled, pushing himself off the bed, and approached the man.

This man was tall and lean, with long dark hair braided behind his pointed ears and his eyes were as deep as the royal blue of his silken robes. He smiled at her father as he passed, nodding once as he turned down the hall behind him. This new elf was more royal than any she had ever met, save Lady Galadriel herself, and moved towards Katy with graceful steps. His hands remained tucked away within his sleeves until he took the place of her father on her bedside and he reached for her own hands lovingly.

"Hello, little one," he spoke in a soft tone and his voice was like the water of a steady babbling brook. It was so gentle and lilting that Katy felt he would make the best of teachers, or even a counselor. It was also very familiar.

"Hello," she responded shyly, staring down at her small hands clasped within his pale and delicate ones.

"How are you faring?" he asked with a patient smile.

"Not so good," she answered sadly. "I fell . . ." she trailed off helplessly.

He pursed his lips and his eyes flickered across her face thoughtfully before he gave her hands a squeeze, "Everything will work out as it should, do not fear."

"Celebrimbor?" she asked hesitantly.

"I knew you were a smart one," he said with a smile. His eyes sparkled with mirth and Katy decided she really liked his smile, it was so joyous and inviting, she found herself smiling too.

"You're always watching over me," she said. She recalled the countless times she had heard his voice in her head, felt the warmth spread from the ring she wore, and the laughter she had heard the first time she had put it on.

His smile took on a sadder note and he said, "Yes, little one, I will always be here for you. The ring is the only piece of me left in this world and as long as you wear it I will only ever be a thought away." His heart had soared when she fist found him, surrounded by that joyous bonfire so many years ago, he recalled that warmth of a flame brought to life by the laughter of mischievous children. He had felt it, when her eyes caught sight of the silver ring within the flames, and when she had returned for him hours later he had understood that she would be the one. His joy was heightened when she had first put the ring on and she heard his voice for the first time.

"The only piece?" she questioned, "What do you mean?"

He leaned back and let out a sigh, clearly he had not intended for the conversation to swing the way it had, but he had no choice now. He was not speaking with a child, as much as she may appear to be one at that moment, and he knew she would not rest until she had gotten her answer.

"I have long since passed from the world, Tinusell, my spirit no longer walks the land of the living," he finally said.

"Oh, you sailed to the west already," she filled in with a giggle. She did not know much about the mysterious land that the elves called home, as much as she had read and learned over her years in Middle Earth the topic of their homeland had been one she never wished to broach, they always grew so somber when it was brought up. She could not bare the sight of their lively faces and bright eyes saddened by home sickness.

"No, little one," he responded with a slow shake of his head, watching her closely.

Katy paused and stared up at him curiously before it all clicked in her mind and she dropped her gaze to their hands, still clasped within each other. Along with the realization that Celebrimbor was, in fact, dead she began to feel more weary and sad. To his eyes she suddenly was no longer a child and it was her actual self that now sat on her bed, bruised and bloodied, struggling to restrain her emotions.

"But I am right here," he said, prodding the ring she wore with his thumb. "I put so much of myself into this last little project that I am afraid you are stuck with me."

She smiled up at him from under her lashes, "Well that's a relief."

"Yes," he agreed with his own smile, "Now, you have much to do. I dare not keep you any longer. I will admit that I was simply being selfish and wished to speak with you face to face, you have done so well . . ." He lifted one hand and cupped her face. "Do not lose hope when things grow dark and hopeless, Tinusell, and remember that I am here for you." He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.

Her eyes opened, taking in the night sky and billowing flames from far above. She was sprawled out against the rocks facing the sky and cliff side. She could hear the angry cry of orcs as great birds flew by overhead. She watched them glide through the night sky as silent as ghosts and carried the dwarves away to safety.

She had been left behind.

She pushed herself into a sitting position, feeling her body protest against the movement, and watched the eagles fly away into the night. She could hear the orcs pursuing them, barking and howling as they took off down the mountain. None came for her.

She let out a sigh and stumbled to her feet, not bothering to take in her condition, and bent down to pick up her bow. She had a long way to go, it would seem. The prospect of traveling the rest of the way on foot was a daunting one, she knew she could make it, but her already sore muscles ached defiantly at the thought.

She grunted and slid from the large rock outcropping, her feet hitting soft ground with a quiet thud.

She had been running after the group for what felt like weeks but she knew it could not have been more than a few days, three max, when she slowed to a stop to catch her breath. She may physically be an elf but even she had her limits. She gasped, feeling the air rasp against her throat and push against her lungs angrily. She reached for her water skin and allowed herself to take a few sips before stuffing it back into her bag. She had wanted to catch up to them by the time they reached Mirkwood but as she looked out over the horizon, glowing now due to the late hour, she could hardly see the woods. They had probably already passed beyond its borders. She growled and once more took off at a run, her cloak billowing behind her, and her pack bouncing against her back.

When night had finally fallen she slowed to a stop again, debating on whether or not she should rest and risk falling further behind. She knew that they would be wondering the woods for a few days, lost amongst the twisting trees and spells but she had no exact measure of time. She risked showing up at the right moment, ready to help them defend against the spiders, but being too exhausted to fight. She would rest for an hour or two, she decided, and sat down against a tree to catch her breath.

She knew that if she slept for ninety minutes then she would be able to get just enough rest to keep going for a while but she had no way to time it.

She gave up and simply closed her eyes.

She dreamt that she was back at Tommy's Bar and Grill, filling out paperwork in the back office, and listening to one of the servers vent about a bad table. From the doorway she could hear the blaring music and loud chatter of a busy restaurant as well as the shouting of frantic servers struggling to keep up with their work load. She didn't have to worry about any of it, she realized with a satisfied smile, she had opened that day and the night shift was not her problem. She glanced at her phone, checking the time, and then turned to face the server and froze. It was not a human that stood, leaning against the desk and watching her curiously, but Celebrimbor himself.

"I highly doubt you are the one who got a crappy tip from a table," she commented dryly, putting her pen down to turn towards him in her chair.

Celebrimbor smiled tightly, acknowledging her joke but not giving it too much thought. "You should wake up Tinusell," he cautioned.

"What? Why? I've been running for days," she groaned, dropping her head onto the desk, feeling the exhaustion even in her dream. Just being reminded of her ventures made her legs ache and her body feel heavy.

"I know, Katelyn," he answered with a frustrated sigh. He pushed himself away from the desk and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry for all that you have had to suffer, but there is much more to come, now I need you to wake up," he pleaded.

She lifted her head and stared up at him dejectedly, "I know," she said. She rubbed at her eyes and pushed herself back in her chair, opening her eyes wide in an effort to rid herself of the exhaustion. "I still have three more books to work through," she muttered in annoyance.

"Yes, now. ." he demanded urgently. "You are in danger!" He leaned forward, his face mere inches from hers.

She jerked back to consciousness with a gasp. The ring was burning hot against her finger, sending warning flares through her hand and up her arm, urging to her to get moving.

It was still late night. Her breath frosted the air in front of her and she shivered. What had she needed to wake up for? She wondered, trying to fight back the panic that welled in her chest, and glanced about her surroundings. Through the canopy of the tree she had been resting against she could see the stars twinkling in the night sky innocently. Rarely had she ever seen so many back in her own time. There was too much light pollution.

A twig snapped.

She turned to look behind the tree she had been resting against and froze.

A hulking black figure was crouched behind her, eyes glowering in the darkness, snuffling the air and baring three inch long fangs. Realizing that she had noticed its presence it growled and took a step forward. Black matted fur and stinking breath, large paws with claws, and hulking shoulders represented a very fearsome creature, even in her time.

"Beorn," she whispered for it could only be him. She must have wondered into his territory without even realizing it.

He roared, sending up plumes of frost and spittle, and causing her to jump into action.

She did not bother on seeing if he was following her when she scrambled to her feet and bolted, she could hear him galloping after her. She was filled with terror in that moment because, while she could have turned to fight him off, she risked hurting a potential friend and ally. He probably thought her a danger to his lands and maybe even to the dwarves themselves and was acting on instinct.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, blast it all to kingdom come!" She shouted as she ran, frustration and fear warring within her. She skittered across the leaf strewn ground, stumbling over rocks and roots, and throwing her arms up to push branches out of her way. All the while she could hear him thundering behind her, gaining distance, and feel his hot breath on her neck.

He came close to killing her that night.

She had slipped over a root and crashed to the ground, rolling down a hill, and only coming to a stop when she had slammed against a tree. It hit her in the stomach and she curled around it out of reflex. Beorn crashed down after her, heedless of the trees, and barreled down on her like a beast from hell. She scrambled to push herself away from the tree and rolled away just as he swiped at her with his paw, sending her flying further down the hill. The world was a dark blur of trees and rocks and she could barely function enough to reach out and stop her decent. She latched onto a protruding stone from the hill and pulled herself to a stop.

Beorn came crashing down past her, unable to stop his own momentum, and let out a roar of frustration.

She struggled to catch her breath for it had been knocked out of her. She felt blood spilling from the deep claw marks on her back. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing the giant barrel to a stop at the bottom of the hill and turning his massive head to search for her, sniffing at the air.

She wasted no time. As quickly as she could she pushed herself up, fighting for balance, and ran along the hill at an angle. She struggled to run on the incline, dodging trees and logs, and slipping on loose grass and leaves all the while the bear ran after her. He could hear her no doubt, bumbling through the brush.

She could not feel her wounds as she ran, her heart steadily pumping adrenaline into her system, but she knew that she could not outrun him for long. Her only hope was reaching Mirkwood. He would not dare to follow her in there. She ran for all that she was worth, pumping her legs harder than she ever had, and leaping over objects in her path. When the hill finally leveled off the trees gave way and she found herself flying over open plains. It was easier for her but it was also easier for the behemoth on her tail.

She could just make out the dark splotch that was Mirkwood in the distance.

It was an hour of hard running but the second her foot set down on the other side of the first tree Beorn stopped. The last of his hot breaths steamed off of her neck and she continued further into the wood like a frightened animal scrambling for its life.

She ran until she could not run any further, choking for air, and leaning against a tree for support. Around her the forest was silent – deathly so – and she glanced about frantically, expecting Beorn or something worse to jump out at her. But nothing came.

She slid to the ground, gasping and hiccuping, and began to feel every bruise and cut she had gained from her tumble down the rocky hill. She could not afford to rest, however, and pushed herself into a standing position. She swayed, steadied herself with a hand to the tree, before pushing away and stumbling deeper into the woods.

She could feel it watching her.

She still had her pack, thankfully, and her sword at her side. The forest was dark with clawing branches and creatures of grotesque make that left her feeling terrified. The woods were getting worse, she realized, as a few years back she had not been frightened of it but now she could hardly contain her shrieks of horror with every disgusting creature she came upon. It was also night and she was without any form of light. The moon was blocked out by the demonic canopy above her, stretching its spindly fingers up to the sky as if to claw it down.

She stumbled over a fallen branch and came around a cluster of bushes and nearly ran into a hideous creature that looked as if it had once been a mountain lion, but now patches of its fur had fallen away to reveal black slimy skin and its fangs had grown far past its jaw, locking its muzzle shut. It squealed upon seeing her and scurried away into the trees, dragging its emaciated body with it. It had left behind a kill of some kind but the animal was torn apart beyond recognition. She was so disgusted that she could not fight down the nausea that built in her stomach and she pushed herself away from the scene, gagging. There was nothing in her stomach but the few measly drops of water she had saved over the days and she watched it fall to the ground miserably.

Could this really be Thranduil's kingdom?

She struggled with the violent shivers that wracked her body and thought of the elven king, he could be cold yes, but he was so bright. Deep in his heart he was jovial like all elves but it had been hidden away under pain and anger and disguised with sarcasm. But she could not imagine him allowing his lands to get so bad. Her fear was joined with concern for her friend, did he know? Surely the elves had seen how bad the forest had gotten? She realized then that the woodland elves had retreated far into their lands, hiding away from the monsters they could not fight, and when they had come to Rivendell wearing their joyous smiles it had been expressions of relief. She recalled the last festival, when Thranduil had sought her out to sit with her by the pond, how he had simply sat in the light staring longingly across the peaceful water.

He was living within a world dreamt up by Stephen King, Edgar Allen Poe, and Tim Burton all in one.

She straitened against the tree she had been leaning against, her eyes jumping about the surrounding forest wearily, holding her breath. She was waiting for the next monster to come crashing through the trees after her. She let out a breath and held it again. Had she heard something? No sound pricked her ears again, not even the insects of the night that she was so used to dared to voice their fears against the sickening blackness seeping from the very ground itself.

She took a step, her boot crunching on the leaves beneath her, before taking another and continuing into the woods all the while wondering what sort of creature she would come across next.

She did not know when the sun had risen exactly, only that the forest took on a slightly lighter tone, and she found herself calming. She was still in horrible pain but at least she could see what was in front of her face and avoid tripping. The night had been a struggle because of it.

It was shortly after she realized the sun must have risen that she began to notice dwarf like footprints decorating the ground around her. She followed them carefully, scrutinizing every mark, and realizing that they had gotten very lost indeed. She watched as their prints led round and round in circles, twisting here and there, and doubling back in confusion.

She wasn't doing any better at the moment. She was disoriented, thirsty, hungry, and in much pain. But the forest no longer affected her like it once had years back. Her mind was clear of any spells of that much she was certain. It was not magic that hindered her now but paranoia and fear ebbing through her blood. Images from the night before haunted her and she briefly thought of the mountain lion and where it hid during the day. She shuddered and forced the thought away.

She had begun to lose herself in thought, absently following the footprints below her, when she heard the sound of snapping branches. Had Beorn followed her after all? Or worse…? She glanced about the forest, searching for the hulking figure, but saw nothing. She let out a breath and turned back to her trail nervously.

Crack.

She froze, midstep, and listened. Nothing moved around her. The trees were still and not even their leaves dared to fall to the forest floor.

She could hear more rustling and cracking as whatever it was approached her. She looked up into the canopy with dawning realization. Crouched above her, flicking its mandibles predatorily and drawing ever closer was a spider. It's long harry limbs supported it among the thin branches, each step quiet and skillful, it lowered itself towards her looking like a creature from hell sent to collect her broken body.

The Spiders of Mirkwood had taken notice of her.

While this would not usually frighten her as it was idiotic to traverse the woods by one's self, she was incredibly alone and exhausted, there was no way she could defend herself against one let alone the handful that she knew were probably lurking about out of sight, waiting to catch her off guard.

She did not try to fight.

She bolted for what felt like the millionth time that day.

Once again she found herself trampling through the undergrowth and struggling to stay ahead of some monster tailing her and she suddenly had an understanding for all those characters in every horror movie she had ever watched. Only this time there was no horrifying music playing nor crying and wailing on her part, only instinct. She ran like a bat out of hell and did not stop no matter what she heard from behind her for she knew they were chasing her.

She burst from a particularly dense cluster of trees and slid to a stop at a meandering river, serene in comparison to the terror she felt, and panted for breath. She could still hear them behind her, climbing through the trees and snapping branches as they went, cackling in that weird clacking language they had. Calling for her to come back to them. For the ring allowed her to understand all forms of speech and she heard their raspy voices laughing at her.

A branch fell into the river to her right and she acted, spotting a boat across the way, she ran a few steps back before launching herself across the running water.

She landed at the end of the long boat, feeling it dip dangerously into the deep water, and clung to the sides for dear life. This was the Black River, she knew, and if so much as a foot slid beneath the surface the owner would fall into a deep slumber. The Spiders would get her for sure.

She looked up, realizing that there was no break in the canopy despite the width of the river, understanding that the spiders were still very much a threat.

She scrambled out of the boat but tripped over the rim and wobbled precariously on the edge before tumbling back. She reached out for a purchase, a handhold or branch, anything to save her from the crushing darkness that would befall her.

Her fingers grasped something smooth, hard, and warm to the touch.

She was inches from the smooth surface of the Black River. She watched the water as it slid beneath her serenely and sickeningly, trembling against the strain of holding herself up, and turned to look at what had saved her life.

She nearly cried with joy.

It was a great elk.

In her mad scramble to grab hold of something it had extended its neck, allowing her to grasp onto one of its antlers. He did not strain against her weight so sturdy was he and he pulled her back away from the river as easily as if he had just been taking a drink.

She fell to the bank, shaking and terrified and so utterly grateful, that she wanted nothing more than to cry with joy.

The elk stood by her side patiently, not afraid of the spiders who had scurried away at the sight of him, and nudged her with his snout curiously.

She reached up, sliding her trembling hands through his thick fur and let out a desperate, "Thank you."

The woodland creatures of Mirkwood were loyal to the king after all, and they were allowed to roam as freely as they wished and Sauroff, for that was the name of the Great Elk, had just been released from his duties as the king's mount due to his old age. He had been let loose to live the rest of his life freely and another Great Elk had stepped forward in his place. He'd taken to roaming the darker parts of the woods, reminiscing on what it had once been when he had spotted Katy struggling. He recognized her from the incident four odd years ago when they had set out to reclaim her from the dragon Smaug.

He nuzzled her head comfortingly and stepped back, urging her to stand.

Katy struggled to her feet, finding her limbs were burning from exhaustion, and let out a shaky breath.

The Elk turned and took a few steps, sending a look back her way, encouraging her to follow. She stumbled after his calm and sure steps, glad that she was no longer alone, and sent a fearful glance back towards the way she had come. It had been a hellish two days.

She assumed that he was leading her to the King's Halls because the further they walked the greener the wood became. She rested a hand on his shoulder as they traveled, glad for a support, and marveled at his head of antlers that protruded from his skull and curved towards the sky far above her head. He was silent on their journey, occasionally letting out a breathy sigh of his own, but otherwise not distracted by the life around him. He was clearly an intelligent animal, she observed. She was not certain of his identity, while Sauroff had recognized her right away she had only been aware of him through a haze of sickness and exhaustion.

Her strength wavered but held as they walked but after a day she grew sluggish and tired and soon Suaroff would trot on ahead of her and pause to look back, anxious to get her to the elves as soon as possible. When she stopped to lean against a tree he let out a snort and turned back for her. He slowed in front of her and lowered himself down to the ground, offering her his back.

She stared dully, unsure of what he wanted at first, before obediently climbing onto his back.

He stood slowly, weary of her flagging strength and balance, before turning back to their path and setting off at an easy lope.

"Sir, Sarouff has been spotted just west of our front gates."

The figure standing within the dark caverns of the great kingdom of Mirkwood turned his head a fraction to take in the guard from the furthest corner of his eye. He had not been the same since the dwarves had arrived. After speaking with Thorin he had fallen back into his emotionless façade that the people of Mirkwood had grown to hate and pity. He had been making progress over the past few decades, most seen within the last handful of years, and yet he was once more removed and ethereal in his mannerisms. He did not look anyone directly in the eye when he spoke to them but instead his gaze seemed to glide right past them, seeing the unknown.

"I thought he had passed on a year ago," he said distantly.

"Apparently not, I assumed you would wish to speak with him once more," the guard said. He resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably in the presence of his king and watched as the elf turned thoughtfully.

"You were right to assume then," Thranduil answered. He did not move at first, seeming to be in thought, before he glided past the guard and towards the door.

He flitted through the great hall effortlessly, blowing passed any of the few Mirkwood elves within, and stepped through the front door, heedless of the streaming sunlight. He turned his gaze west. Far past the first grouping of trees at the edge of the clearing he could just make out the figure of his old friend, resting against a stone outcropping, though it would have been too far for any human to see. He set off at a hurried but elegant pace into the trees and the guard who had been following him slid to a stop at the doors and watched as the king sped across the clearing.

Thranduil slowed as he drew near. He glided over the stones and fallen branches of his forest, his robes trailing over the leaves, and came to a stop just shy of the great elk. He watched the creature placidly.

Sarouff had lifted his great head, antlers and all, to turn and watch the approach of his dear friend. The Great Elk was getting on in years, and as was customary, Thranduil had released him to do as he saw fit at the end of his life. He took in his grey and shaggy coat and old eyes blankly but inside he was tormented to see his old friend in such a state. The curse of the immortal elves was to watch all of their mortal companions wither and die, stolen away from them by time.

"I believe this is yours," the elk spoke to his mind. His mouth did not move nor did his gaze waiver.

Thranduil dropped his eyes to the figure laid curled against the elk's side, previously hidden behind his head and antlers, and froze. He would recognize the hair and unmistakably masculine clothing anywhere. She was asleep if not unconscious by the looks of it. His brows lifted in graceful and slightly removed concern.

"I have carried her twice now, injured and sick, I wish not to make it a third," Sarouff sounded as if he were admonishing the king and it caused the high elf to let out a resigned sigh. She was not his responsibility, if anyone's, she was Elrond's. But then again, he had grown rather fond of her over the years, and so he moved to crouch down at her side and brush a strand of hair from her face.

"Must you always come to us in such states of disrepair," he muttered. He allowed the cold façade to fade. He rested a hand on her cheek, his gaze flickering across her unresponsive face, and sent a worried look towards his old friend.

"How long has she been like this?" he questioned, worry flashing across his face.

"She was well enough except for a few injuries until the last day or so, I found her teetering on the banks of the black river, she seemed strong enough all in all but horribly frightened and physically exhausted. I believe it is mostly due to lack of nourishment. She has had no water or food since I found her but I dared not give her anything from these woods." The elk shook his great head and glanced down at the woman at his side.

"jus' want sleep," she croaked.

Thranduil dropped his gaze to her once more, "What are we to do with you?" He was glad to see his old friend but even happier to hear her voice, tired and strained though it may be, it acted as a balm to his seething mood left over from his conversation with Thorin Oakenshield.

"I don't know," she answered dully. She was not entirely aware who she was talking to, if anything she assumed she was dreaming and that she had actually fallen into the river and was now in peaceful slumber while the spiders sucked out her insides and played with her corpse. Despite the gruesome thought she could not bring herself to act even when the thought of the disfigured jungle cat slithered into her mind and she trembled.

Sarouff snorted.

Thranduil moved to lift her in his arms and allowed the great elk to move from where he had been resting in order to support Katy.

"Thank you, my friend," the king bowed his head to the age old creature, watching as he turned away and shot off into the woods, knowing that his job was done. The king allowed his eyes to wonder from tree to tree apprehensively, weary of the dangers they now held, before moving back through the foliage the way he had come.

Thranduil sighed through his nose, adjusting the woman in his arms, and gave her a doubtful look. Her eyes were still closed but her brows had crashed together in something resembling annoyance. "What is it?" he asked while walking back the way he had come.

"I want to walk," she muttered, squinting up at him.

"Well you can hardly move on your own," he stated with a quirk of a brow.

"But it's embarrassing" she scowled and shifted irritably in his hold.

Thranduil snorted, "That may be the least of you worries."

"Whatever," she muttered, rubbing at her eyes with one hand.

He did not bother deeming her with a response, irritated by her incoherent behavior, and more concerned with the blood trickling down his arm from her back. He did not pretend to know how she had stumbled into his realm, the last he had heard of her was that she was hidden away within Rivendell for her protection, and yet here she was beaten and bloody to the point of delirium. He worried of what she had run into while stumbling through his realm alone and in the dark. It had grown far more dangerous over the centuries than it ever had been before and though he tried to beat back the darkness it would only slither back across his borders, closer than ever. Not but a few weeks ago he had personally gone out with a patrol to extinguish a growing colony of spiders.

"You have much to explain," he muttered as he climbed the steps into his domain. Lord Elrond was probably beyond himself with worry knowing that his precious little ring bearer was missing and no doubt off gallivanting on another hair brained adventure.

"They needed a dragon charmer," she mumbled. She stared listlessly at his shoulder, absorbed in her own dark thoughts and memories.

Thranduil did not stop moving but his expression grew grave and dark at the mention of the dragon. He had no doubt what she was referring to. There were currently thirteen dwarves locked away in his dungeons even as he carried her down the halls and into the same room she had used four years ago. His grip on her tightened and she grunted, feeling her bruises and scrapes burn against his hold, causing him to glance down at her with the slightest hints of an apologetic expression.

The door was open when he stepped through the archway and he pushed it shut with his foot before moving over to the bed and laying her down on her side so he could look at her back.

There were deep claw marks, ranking her cloak and tunic to shreds, and splitting her flesh deep enough to warrant worry. They had begun to scab over but blood still dribbled from the scratches sickeningly as he pulled the torn fabric away to get a closer look.

The door to the room was pushed open slowly and a young elf with red locks of his own peered into the dark room hesitantly, "Sir?"

"Bring me bandages, and a needle and thread," he responded quietly.

The elf left as quickly as he could, shutting the door behind him quietly, and hurried down the halls to do as his king commanded.

"That bad?" she mumbled. She had taken a hold of a pillow, burring her fingers into it, staring at the white fabric absently.

"No, I simply relish at the thought of causing you more pain," he bit back irritably. He reached around her to unclasp her cloak and pull it from her shoulders, leaving it to rest against the back of a chair to be repaired later.

"Sorry," she said quietly, pulling the pillow under her head to make herself comfortable.

She was such a pitiful sight that he rested a hand on her shoulder in silent apology. "Tell me what happened," he demanded quietly. He knew that she must have gotten mixed up with those blasted dwarves, there could be no coincidence, as she had arrived not a day behind them. He only feared that she had gotten herself into more trouble than was worth with that lot. A darker thought sat like a log in his mind but he wished not to acknowledge it. He could see how shaken she had been by her experience.

"We were caught by goblins, and when they escaped I was left behind, I got knocked over the cliff," she began slowly, feeling tired beyond belief and struggling to organize the past few days in her mind. "So I followed on foot only I didn't think about Beorn . . ." she trailed off.

"I see," he mumbled, gently prodding at her wounds earning him an irritated jerk on her part.

"He followed me all the way to Mirkwood and I was trying to catch up but I ran into . . ."she fell silent.

Thranduil leaned over her to see whether or not she had fallen asleep, finding her eyes closed, but her breathing had not yet slowed enough in fact it seemed to have quickened.

"I didn't know how bad the forest had gotten," she finally said. "There are things out there that should not be alive," she shuttered, "Horrible things." She curled in on herself, feeling her stomach revolt against her memories, and wished she had never left Rivendell. "I'm just tired . . ." she said with a sigh.

He moved around to the other side of the bed and sat, robes falling to the floor, and patted the top of her head, "Then rest little one, no harm will fall to you here," he advised. He eyed the scars that marred her face absently, his hand hovered her cheek before pulling it away just as the door flew open.

Thranduil glowered at the intruders, the red haired elf and his son, Legolas. He lifted his hand into the air, signaling for silence.

Legolas took in the figure on the bed and the grizzly wounds adorning her back, his shoulders falling forward in pity and defeat. He took the bandages and herbs from the younger elves arms and sent him away with a nod of his head. The young thing seemed all too happy to oblige.

He brought the provisions over to his father who took them gently from his grasp.

Deeming that this was a wound better dealt with in privacy, Legolas grasped the woman on her shoulder carefully before leaving the room.

The hands of a king were the hands of a healer after all, and he was no king.

Thranduil watched his son leave before turning his gaze back down to the girl. He wished that he could do this while she was unconscious but he knew no depth of sleep would save her from the pain of stitching her flesh back together. He reached for her shoulder and pulled her onto her stomach so that he could get a clear view of her wounds once more. He grabbed the torn cloth of her tunic and tore it away from her back, leaving it to act as a towel and soak up any tendrils of blood that threatened to make it to the bed.

"That was my favorite," she muttered into the pillow, hiding her face in it against the oncoming pain and shame.

"I will have a new one made for you," he responded absently.

A heavy silence fell over the room while he went about sterilizing a needle in the fireplace and threading it after it had cooled. He moved back to the bed, sitting down on the side he had just vacated, and paused.

"Just do it," she groaned, shoving her face deeper into the pillow.

He did not respond, simply placed a hand against her back to steady both her and himself, before holding the needle to the lip of the wound and sliding it through her flesh. She tensed, letting out a cry of pain before biting down on her lip. It was not an easy task to suffer through, though she tried to relax and embrace the pain, it took nearly an hour to close up each of the four claw marks that rendered her flesh. It was gruesome, blood pooled from them, and parts of the wound had tried to scab over in the absence of care.

When he had pulled the needle through for the last time his fingers were coated in her blood. He bit the rest of the thread off, eager to finish the job and her suffering, and tied off the end with as small a knot as possible. He dropped the needle onto the bedside table and stood to rinse his hands in a bowl of water next to it before wiping the rest of her blood from her back using the rags of her tunic. Once done he went about grinding a few herbs into a paste that he layered over the freshly closed wounds.

"I feel like I just went through the world's most hellish tattoo session," she groaned. She had yet to move, he suspected she couldn't, and only tightened her hold on her pillow.

"It had to be done," he answered simply.

"And now I have more scars to add to the collection," she said. She turned her head to look up at the King from where he stood by the bed, examining his handy work.

He sighed, "I am sorry."

She did not respond. She had closed her eyes again and he watched as a tear slid from the corner of her eye and trailed down her temple into the pillow beneath her. He sat down atop the bed once again and rested a hand over her own. He was struck by how much her spirit had diminished since he had last seen her. She had been so vibrant and care free. To see her now, broken and exhausted, twisted something in his chest that had not had the decency to beat in a long time. He lifted his hand to her cheek, stroking the scar that marred it, before dropping it and turning his face away from her's.

"I want . . ." she began but trailed off. Her breath hitched, fighting a sob, and he stilled.

"Home?" he offered quietly.

She nodded against the pillow.

"I don't know if I can do it," she muttered, "I was just so scared. It was different when I was fighting to protect someone but when I was out there on my own . . .ugh." She lifted a hand and wiped at her eyes irritably.

"Do not worry yourself over it," Thranduil stated. "I do not doubt the strength of your spirit. When next you find yourself in a similar situation remember that, though you may be alone, that does not mean you are fighting for nothing." He realized that her break down, though sound in argument, was largely due to her exhaustion and hunger. Even as he sat there her eyes were fluttering shut again. "Rest now, Tinusell, I will send someone to check on you later."

True to his word, Thranduil had sent someone to look after her, and Katy was glad to find that it was Lythia who woke her from her deep slumber troubled by the images of the past few days.

"I have been ordered to see to it that you are cleaned up and fed," she said in way of explanation when Katy had first woken and stared up at her in confusion. The elf smiled down at her kindly and helped her to sit up, mindful of her fresh stitches, and guided her into the adjacent washroom. Katy struggled out of the rest of her clothing, mainly just her boots and pants as her tunic was already torn and hanging about her waist. She had long since gotten over embarrassment in regards to her body as the elves of Rivendell practiced communal bathing. It had been quite a shock to her that first night years ago when she had made her way out to the pool and found that there were already several ellyth there.

She stepped down into the small bathing pool, relishing in the warmth, and sat on the bottom. It came to her collarbone, allowing her to relax. The water soothed her aches and made her eyes droop with exhaustion despite her long nap. Lythia helped her to wash up and they talked of things that had transpired. Lythia had apparently met an elf that she was rather fond of. The gossip was good but Katy found herself too tired to truly focus on the conversation. She just enjoyed hearing her voice.

She was fed bread and broth before being put back to bed on her stomach. She felt like an infant but she was too tired to dwell on it.

It was a day later that she was visited by someone quite unexpected.

"Katelyn," a voice whispered.

She squinted in the dimness of night, seeing no one in her room but positive that she had just heard her name. She lifted her head from her pillow, her hair falling about in a mess, and scrutinized the darkness. If she looked hard enough she could see the smallest of figures crouched by her bed.

"Bilbo?" she whispered.

"How did you get here? We thought you had fallen . . ." he trailed off insinuating they thought she had been dead.

Nice to know they would have just left her body, she thought irritably, but refrained from mentioning it. "I followed you guys, I knew you would end up here," she said with a yawn. She propped her head up with an arm and watched as the hobbit shuffled forth from the shadows.

"Do you know the king . . .personally?" he questioned awkwardly. While the dwarves were locked up in the dungeons Katy had been carried in by the king himself and given a luxurious room. He had known because he had been sneaking about the King's Halls for nearly three days, beyond sight thanks to the ring now resting in his pocket, and had watched from behind a pillar as the woodland king strode through the main hall with Katy in his arms. He had thought she was dead, truthfully, with the way she sat limply in his arms but then he had heard her speak.

"Yes, I stayed in Mirkwood while I was healing from my burns," she muttered. She lifted a hand to her cheek absently and let out a sigh. She recalled the weeks that she spent in Mirkwood, struggling with the simplest of movements because no matter how carefully she moved, everything stung. The twins had stayed by her side the whole time, never leaving for more than an hour or so to stretch their legs or to rest themselves. She had not seen much of the king then. After their discussion the night she had returned from Smaug's clutches he had not visited her for more than a few minutes to check on her healing burns. He had a kingdom to run, of course, and it was not as if they were any more than acquaintances. But after she had discovered the true reason for her being in Middle Earth and he had been the first to know, she felt that they shared a kind of bond. He had named her Tinusell and given her such a rare gift, a smile, that she had felt sure they were friends then. After that night he had not allowed himself to smile at her the same way he had before, always the polite shallow smile, the one used to speak to outsiders, greeted her when she spoke to him. It had shattered the dream like quality of the moment. Smaug had awoken her to the reality of her situation yet Thranduil had rekindled a bit of the ethereal quality she felt had disappeared upon finding herself at the wrong end of a dragon's teeth. There really was no right end to be at when it comes to dragon's teeth, but I am sure you get the idea. She had been grounded in her understanding of her situation, before she had felt like a ghost, simply existing in Middle Earth yet not truly being there but Smaug had pulled her head out of the clouds. The threatening monster, born from the darkest of places and lusting for gold and blood, had awoken her to the reality of her task.

Thranduil had swept into her life with his long trailing robes and piercing eyes and she had felt that her reality had once more taken on that fantastical quality. Not the same confused and lackluster one brought on by the urge to simply survive after the death of her father but a whimsical and elegant mixture of reality and dream that left her delighted and thirsting for more.

"He saved you then," Bilbo pointed out.

"No," she corrected with a secretive smile, "I saved myself, of that I am proud, but he definitely set me on the path of healing afterwards."

Bilbo smiled haltingly at her, trying to decide on how to take her statement, before deciding that it did not matter. Clearly she was an independent being regardless of her gender. He doubted any effort on anyone's part would deter her from doing what she wanted or facing what dangers she deemed necessary.

He did not doubt Thranduil had played a hand in seeing her back to health. While he had been cold towards the dwarves he had not, at first, been rude and refusing to give aid. In fact, he had offered to help them all in their quest, but it had been Thorin, still bitter from the events that took place nearly two centuries ago, who had insulted him and destroyed any hopes of getting help. Bilbo had seen the King of The Woodland Realms alight with fury, anger that he had not felt for thousands of years, before revealing his own scars. Both physical and emotional marring's that decorated his façade were horrifying and the hobbit had found himself, not pitying the King for that would have been rude, but nurturing a strong empathy for him. The fact that he had been stealing his food and water during his stay may have come into play a bit as well but I digress. So he knew without a doubt that the king was not an evil creature, merely broken and hurting, but refusing to fade from the world like so many heartbroken elves tended to do. He was a determined fellow who held the lives of his people above all others and in that sense he was just like Thorin, funnily enough.

"I see," he said. Then, "Do you know how I can get the dwarves out of here? Thranduil has them locked away in the dungeons."

"No," she lied, shaking her head sadly. "I have not explored all of these caverns, this mountain is too big and the majority of the time I was here was spent resting in bed." She paused, staring at the hobbit thoughtfully before continuing, "I recommend exploring the lower caverns."

"I'll give it a try," Bilbo agreed, nodding his head.

"But wait for me, another day and I should be able to get these stitches out and I will join you," she gestured to her back with a thumb. It would not take long for the wounds to heal thanks to the ring she wore on her finger. She wondered absently if Bilbo was able to see it and if he would know what it was if he did, or would it just be a simple ring to him?

"Alright," Bilbo answered.

He slept in her room that night curled up on a pillow and blanket on the far side of her bed from the door. Katy smiled into her own pillow, pulling her blanket up around her shoulders with a quite chuckle thinking it was like they were having a sleep over but in truth she was just glad not be alone.


	5. Chapter 4

When she woke the next morning Bilbo was already gone, no doubt doing as she had advised and creeping through the lower caverns. She was sure he would figure it out on his own, he was a clever little thing after all.

She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. The day before Lythia had helped her into a loose white gown to wear while her back healed and she was glad to find that no blood had seeped onto it overnight. Thranduil was rather adept at stitching flesh, she thought, and felt goose bumps rise at what that insinuated. Clearly it was something he had much practice in. Regardless she slid to the floor, feeling her skin pull at the stitching's as she stood, and slowly walked over to the open window looking out of the trees of Mirkwood. The sky was clear and a light breeze blew in through the curtains and ruffled her hair about her face while she stood.

"Would you allow me to take a look."

She glanced over her shoulder, heart nearly bursting from her chest, to find Thranduil standing at her door. He was dressed in a deep red robe and his crown of berries that morning. He made quite the image, she noted dully, and smirked. She wanted to make some sort of sarcastic comment regarding his need to inspect her wound, seeing as how it would require her to pull her gown off, but she refrained. She knew he would not respond and would only grow more distant.

"Sure," she said. She shrugged out of one sleeve and then the other, holding the top of the gown over her chest while the elf moved forward. It was just like a visit to the doctors, she thought. His fingers were cold as he prodded her back, testing the mended flesh as gently as possible. It had already begun to knit itself back together but she had nothing but the elvin magic flowing through her to thank for that. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her towards the door so the sunlight would spill across her back for him to see.

"I think I will remove the stiches later this evening, rest a bit more and I will return later." He drew his hands away, clasping them beneath the luminous sleeves of his robe, and moved towards the door.

She wanted to call out for him, to ask him what had him so troubled, but she realized she had never before been the one to initiate conversation between them. She did not know whether to call him by his name or title. When she had first met him as he sat upon his throne it had been obvious she was to refer to him as a king for that is what he was. When he had visited Rivendell he had always approached her first and greeted her. But after all that they had been through she no longer knew where she stood.

He paused at her door, one hand resting on the knob, and turned his head a fraction as if to hear her better. "Yes?"

She struggled to contain her surprise and fumbled for a response. She could not ask him what she had originally wanted to; she felt it was too personal. She thought about asking him of the dwarves but quickly quashed the thought, realizing that it would only invoke his ire. "The other night," she blurted, pulling at the sleeves of her dress that she slid her arms back into, "I had a dream. My dad was in it. He passed away a few years ago."

Thranduil turned, his profile to her, and watched her as she spoke with the slightest hints of curiosity.

"It was when I had fallen off the cliff, I must have hit my head because I was suddenly back in my old room, in my time, and my dad was there. He was trying to wake me up to go to school and I said I didn't want to go because I was scared. He told me something and I didn't remember what it was until you said the same thing the other day. He said that I have never let fear stop me before and that I just needed to prove to myself that I could do it. I would have forgotten it forever had you not said pretty much the same thing, so I wanted to thank you," she rushed to get it all out before he lost interest, and at the end of her spiel she bowed at the waist. She had not thought about the action though and could feel the stitches pulling against her flesh.

"Do not bow to me, Tinusell," he ordered coldly.

She stared, confusion written between her pinched brows, and wondered what she had done to anger him so.

"You should bow to no one," he continued, a small smile growing, just enough to brighten his eyes. He fell silent, watching her as a smile of her own broke out across her face and she nodded once before pulling the door open. "Do not pull those stitches, I will not fix you up again," he ordered before exiting.

She spent the day sitting by the window and when Lythia came with food she spoke to her for a good few hours, now that she was more rested she actually contributed to their conversation rather than just listening.

"The King does not seem to be in the best of moods," she noted some time later after she had set her dish to the side on the windowsill.

"No," Lythia agreed. "Thorin Oakenshield was not very polite with him. Some of the guards said King Thranduil grew angry."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Katy asked curiously.

"My friend," Lythia began, "he has not shown anger in nearly a thousand years."

Katy was struck by awe. Someone with that much self-control existed in the world? And Thorin had gone in and blundered it all to smithereens without a second thought. Why did that not surprise her?

"My King is a gentle soul," Lythia defended, "He cares much for his people but I am afraid his heart was gravely wounded when he lost his wife. He has never been the same since and I doubt he ever will be. There was once a time when these halls used to echo with their laughter; him, his wife, and Prince Legolas. . ." the ellyth trailed of sadly, fighting back tears. "But I fear it never will again."

"No one can go on like that forever," Katy mumbled.

"We are elves, Tinusell, we have all of time to mourn those lost to us." Lythia stood, pushing herself off of the sill where she had sat to join her, and gave her a brief saddened smile before leaving.

An hour later her door opened and shut of its own accord and she knew that a mischievous little hobbit had found his way into her room. She had yet to move from the sill, deep in her thoughts, and only moved to look at her door before returning her gaze to the outside world.

"I think I found a way out," Bilbo's voice spoke from just to her left.

"Good," she stated absently before taking a deep breath and pulling herself from her thoughts. "I heard there is to be a festival tomorrow, which means lots of drinking, I am sure you can figure out something during that time." The woodland elves loved their wine after all, and she knew Bilbo could use that to his advantage.

"Aren't you going to help?" Bilbo asked in confusion. He had yet to remove the ring so Katy could not see the expression on his face but she heard it in the tone of his voice.

"I can't, I am expected to attend." It was The Feast of Starlight and she herself had the last star inside of her, how could she not make an appearance to the event? Lythia had demanded it of her and had even promised to find her a suitable gown to wear. "It will go long into the morning I suspect, I will slip away and follow when I get the chance."

"I guess we'll just have to work with what we have," Bilbo muttered darkly.

"I'm sure everything will work out," Katy comforted the hobbit.

"What are you plotting?"

Katy nearly jumped out of her skin, or fallen off the seat at the windowsill, and turned her eyes to the Elvin King. He had snuck up to her door again, though she highly doubted he did it intentionally, and must have heard the tail end of her and Bilbo's conversation. She panicked, wondering how much he had heard.

"Lythia asked me to attend The Feast of Starlight tomorrow night," she answered quickly. It would seem her skills had not diminished over her time in Middle Earth. "I don't have anything to wear and I am afraid anything that she can scrounge up for me would probably be more revealing than I like," she admitted quietly. She had not completely lied; she had simply avoided a dangerous topic in lieu of a more embarrassing one.

Thranduil did not respond to her verbally. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him with a sigh. He moved to stand at the windowsill, looking down at her from his great height, and said, "If it pains you so why not accept the gift I offered you."

"I have been tempted," she admitted. She chewed her lip in thought while the King stared down at her kindly. "Maybe just for the night," she finally relented. "I feel they are a part of who I am even if I am embarrassed by them."

He sat on the sill beside her, his robes rustling against the movement, and grasped one of her hands in his own. He felt the scars splashing across her palms, up the undersides of her arms, and lifted a hand to her jaw to inspect the one on her cheek. "They are not so bad," he mumbled absently, "I have seen worse."

"I am sure," she commented with a nervous laugh.

He paused and smiled at her, he had thought to delve into his own memories but her comment had pulled him from the current.

"I will remove the stitches and then see what I can do about these scars," he said and stood.

While he moved over to her bedside where the supplies from two days passed still remained Katy sent a glance to where she had last heard Bilbo speak. She saw no hint of his shadow nor heard even the slightest of breaths so she could only assume he had hidden himself away. Probably in the washroom, she thought, as the door had been left ajar when she last used it.

The procedure to remove her stitches was a lot less painful than she thought. Like she had earlier that day she pulled her arms from her sleeves and held the gown to her chest while Thranduil brushed her hair over her shoulder. She remained on the windowsill while he took a small knife from her bedside and slid it through each small knot he had made. Once done he took a pair of tweezers and gently tugged each string from her flesh. She felt a pinch each time one came loose.

"This would be much easier if you had chosen to lie on the bed," Thranduil commented when he had reached the bottom of the first claw mark. He had crouched down to reach her lower back and Katy was struggling not to laugh.

"That would have been too easy," she said with a shrug.

"Sit still," he ordered.

"Yes your majesty," she shot back. She could not see his face but she felt his hands pause in their work and she chuckled. She could feel the irritated look he was giving her.

"You seem to be in better spirits," he commented dryly before returning to his work.

"I always bounce back," she boasted.

"Yes, well, I regret to inform you that you have not lost your knack for finding trouble," he reminded her lightly.

"I know," she said with a sigh.

There was obviously an elephant in the room and Katy was pretty sure that it was the dwarves currently locked within Thranduil's dungeons. She assumed he had known that she had some part in their quest and was no doubt suspicious of her but would not bring himself to interrogate her for whatever reason. Would he throw her in the dungeons too if she did not cooperate with him when the time came? For she was certain he would ask her eventually. She wished it would not come to that, she had begun to feel that he was a true friend, one that she could trust despite his aloof manner. There had been a few precious moments she wished not to ruin.

"Does Lord Elrond know of your adventures?" Thranduil questioned.

"No," she admitted. The thought of her friend and mentor back in Rivendell sent guilt through her chest. How had he taken her departure? Not well, she would imagine. He was probably horribly disappointed in her.

"I thought as much," he muttered. He said no more on the subject and pulled the last of the stitches out of her back before standing. He disposed of the threads in a bowl on her table side and washed his hands with water.

Katy had pulled her gown back into place and turned on the windowsill, her back felt strange and loose as she had grown used to the straining of the stitches. Her feet touched the cold stone floor hesitantly, afraid of the chill, before she settled and turned her gaze onto the King as he approached her from the other side of the room.

"You once told me that in your time men had built vessels that could carry them into the stars," he prompted. He returned to his seat on the windowsill and sat so he was facing her, his eyes alight with that childlike curiosity of his.

"Yes," she responded hesitantly. She was delighted by the topic but she wondered what had reminded him of that day, so long ago. Could it have been the darkening sky behind her? She glanced over her shoulder finding that she could see a few twinkling stars shinning. "But to explain it in depth you would first have to know that, out there in space, there is no air. The Earth is surrounded by a bubble, the atmosphere, which protects us from the crushing vacuum that is space. If a person were to go out into space without protection the air would be ripped from their lungs and they would die in the most gruesome of ways."

"Oh," he lifted his brows and turned his piercing gaze to the sky outside.

"Yes, so we first practiced by sending out machines that would collect data for us," she explained. She had become rather excited as she spoke and she lifted her hands and waved them about in demonstration. "Then we built these great hulking ships out of metal that were airtight and built to withstand the environment. They have great big engines on them that propel them straight up into the sky! And the people who rode in it wore special suits with fishbowls on their heads to provide them with oxygen. The only place we have actually set foot on is the moon . . ." she glanced out the window at the pale sliver hanging in the sky absently. "All of the world watched that day, and the first man to ever set foot on the moon spoke to us from way up there over a radio. He said 'One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind'. And since then we have been sending signals and machines out there, as far as they will go, to collect information so that one day maybe we can begin again . . .on another world." She fell silent for a moment before turning to look at the elf who was watching her raptly. "But the most beautiful thing you will ever see is the Earth from high above, the sun just peeking out from behind it, and all the lights twinkling, and the clouds moving . . ." she let out a breathy sigh and dropped her hands into her lap. "Needless to say, all those stars are so far away that we could never hope to reach any of them within our lifetimes. Except for one," she smiled and gestured at the sinking sun. "Our own little star."

"Little?" Thranduil questioned curiously.

"Oh yes, though the sun is hundreds if not thousands of times larger than our world itself, it is quite small in comparison to other stars we have seen." She said. "It makes you feel kind of small and insignificant, doesn't it?"

Thranduil did not respond, his gaze lingered on the last rays of the sun as it disappeared behind the tree line.

"The world is a big place, but out there, it stretches on forever. It never ends." She became lost in thought, wondering how she could ever get so caught up in the little things of her life, of the strife and frustrations that troubled her down on Earth, when a looming darkness yawned before her at all times.

She was so lost in thought that she did not realize Thranduil had moved until his hands were cupping her cheeks and he had dropped his forehead to hers.

What?

She did not move or speak, distracted by his nearness, and allowed her eyes to fall shut as his had. His fingers splayed, sliding behind her ears and under her jaw, and she could feel his brows crease in concentration. She felt a tingling across her body, the pins and needles feeling spread across her like a wave, and she realized then what he was doing. She felt her scars burning, not intensely, but it garnered her attention the moment it began. Her breath hitched and he let out a sigh through his nose before pulling away.

He examined her face between his hands, his eyes flickering about, before moved to look at her arms and hands. Satisfied that the scars, once visible, were now nonexistent he smiled and stood.

"I am sure whatever gown Lythia finds for you will do fine now," he said lightly and slid his hands into the sleeves of his robes.

"Thank you," Katy mumbled, feeling her now smooth cheek and marveling at what he had done.

He nodded his head once and moved towards the door but just like before he paused, "If you see her again before the feast tomorrow night, which I am sure you will, be sure to tell her to find something in white. The color suits you."

Then he was gone, leaving her staring after him gob smacked.

She did not hear form Bilbo again and assumed that he had slipped away after the King to explore the caverns again and to work out and kinks in his plan. She felt rather bad about not just telling him how to escape but she felt that it was not her place. She knew that he would figure it out so why ruin it for him?

The next day, true to her word, Lythia returned with a gown draped over her arms and a rather pleased smile on her face. She held the dress out for Katy to see and she had to admit it was quite a stunning piece of artwork. She could never compare it to the dress that her dear friend had made her long ago, but the stunning lace work and beading, along with the long train, was enough to send her childhood heart skipping with delight. It was another fairy tale dress.

The ellyth made no comment about the lack of scars as she helped her into the dress, lacing it up in the back, and braided her hair so that it was no longer in her face. Katy had wished that she had her circlet made for her by Elrond but she had sadly left it back in her room in Rivendell atop her dusty dresser. To make up for the lack of her usual headdress Lythia placed delicate hair jewels throughout her braid.

She wore no jewelry other than what was in her hair, partly because the dress was beautiful enough on its own and partly because Katy was so glad to be rid of her scars that she felt their absence was enough for accessories. The dress hung off her shoulders elegantly and trails of the fine ivory cloth hung from around her shoulder blades, looking like wings draped down her back, and flowed behind her as she walked. As per usual, she refused any shoes that Lythia had to offer, claiming that if she were to be among the woodland elves then she would do it as it should be done. This gathering was about the honoring of the stars, nature, and memory. Shoes would only be a distraction to her. But in truth she just enjoyed going barefoot. It reminded her of her childhood when she would go scampering down the streets with her friends and then return home trailing dirt throughout the house.

She was soon to discover that the feast of starlight had little to do with food. They would only be partaking in what was gifted to them from the sparkling night sky. There would be much wine and a grand breakfast at the end, but in the beginning there was only starlight and the voices of hundreds of elves singing from the grand old trees.

Katy felt rather out of place in Mirkwood that night. It was not like Rivendell, where she knew all the faces around her and she was simply celebrating how far they had come with her friends. Here she knew next to no one, did not know their customs as well as she would have liked, and felt flustered when she stepped into the hall and was swept up by the crowds of unfamiliar elves. She kept her hands clasped in front of her as she walked with no one but Lythia at her side, but she could tell she was anxious to meet up with her love interest, and felt rather guilty about holding her up.

"Go ahead, Lythia, I'm pretty sure I can manage on my own," she said with a laugh.

"If you are certain," the ellyth smiled at her before hurrying on ahead in her silver dress, brown hair trailing behind her.

Katy did not mind. She felt that the feast of starlight was meant to be more of a personal thing for her. She herself had a star deep within her and so when she stepped out into the night air she felt more gratitude than awe. The star inside her had saved her life not so long ago, when she had been nothing but a baby it had decided to give up its life, the last of the magic in the world, to see that she persevered. That was why, on that night, she thought deeply on her existence in Middle Earth and the job she had unknowingly inherited.

The crowd of elves moved about the trees, all silent and glowing under the pale light allowed to shine through the canopy, and climbed into the awaiting branches of the trees. They seemed to reach down for the fair folk, urging them to climb as high as their limbs would allow, and glowed with their own soft light. Here the trees were untouched by darkness. They still radiated an aura of quiet clam and intelligence, welcoming those of the first born like old friends.

Katy stood under the leaves, staring up at the stars that glistened in the sky and wondered if they were waving to her cheerily. She felt rather lost at that moment, not sure on where she should go, and chose to remain where she was. It felt right to allow the elves to climb into the trees to be as close to their beloved stars as possible whereas she had no place among these people, or this time for that matter, and decided it was best to simply observe. For if she had learned anything from Lord Elrond it was that much could be learned in the act of observation. But she could not stop the sudden yearning for home that welled up within her. She wished for her mother's warm embrace, her family's laughter, and the friendships she had left behind. To her, those were her beloved stars, the twinkling lights in the darkness. Her memories.

"Do not look so gloom, Tinusell," Thranduil's voice filtered to her over the soft singing that had begun in the trees.

She turned to watch as the elf approached her. He had changed into white robes that sparkled silver in the starlight and his autumn crown had been exchanged for a silver circlet ordained with white gems. He came to a stop next to her and looked up into the sky, clear of the dense canopy in that particular spot, and allowed his eyes to fall shut.

"Sorry," she muttered. "I just had a moment."

"This night is in honor of starlight and the memories it holds, it often dredges up the dearest memories we hold in our hearts." He turned his gaze to her, smiling in his strange way, and yet his lips did not move. It was just the emotion he emanated; a kind of kindness that radiated off of him like his own starlight. "It should hold special meaning to you who has a star of your own."

They remained in that spot for a long while. An elf had brought wine to them, which Katy sipped gratefully, glad for the warmth it brought her in the chilly night air. And listened to the singing as it grew and diminished in strength.

"Aren't you going to sing?" she asked curiously.

His eyes fell to the forest floor briefly before he looked at her with a sad smile, "I did once."

She looked down at the leaf strewn ground beneath her feet thoughtfully and watched him from the corner of her eye. He did not look at her now. He had turned his head away from her as if ashamed that he had answered her in such a manner. How sad, she thought, that the death of his wife had destroyed him so and that even after a thousand years he was still heartbroken. Immortality seemed horrible to her then and she was reminded of her own fears of outliving her loved ones. Even after lifetimes had passed Thranduil's pain had not diminished. Humans had the ability to take death in stride and move on, even to joke about it, but to the first born, the elves, a death among their kin should have been unheard of. They were immortal. When one of their own passed it was destructive. They were supposed to live on forever, to sail into the west, and remain with one another for eternity. Not to perish in horrible gruesome ways with nothing but the memory of their existence left behind.

"Hey Jude," she sang. The other voices of the elves died down upon hearing her clear voice echo across the glade for this was a song unfamiliar to them.

She lifted her chin, straightened her posture, and clasped her hands in front of her as she sang. She would sing to the stars one of her favorite songs by The Beatles partly to comfort her friend and partly because she knew they would one day hear the very same song broadcasted to them. When the day came that it would be decided to send The Beatles record out into the stars in hopes of reaching out to other life forms it would be as if the stars were hearing a song from the past. It would be like hearing your mother sing a lullaby she used to lull you to sleep with or like being greeted by an old friend after spending many years without them.

"And any time you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders." She glanced at the elf out of the corner of her eye once more, glad to see that the withdrawn look had fallen from his face and been replaced by a look of quiet gratitude.

"So let it out and let it in, her Jude, begin. You're waiting for someone to perform with." She as a bit nervous now, because when she had performed the same song on her guitar her audience had always known what was coming, what to expect, and when to jump in an sing along. The hookah bar would be filled with smiling and laughing people playing along. "And don't you know it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do. The movement you need is on your shoulders. Na na na na na na na na na!"

And it was like they all knew. They understood where she was going with the song and what she was doing because hundreds of voices sang with hers. She had never felt more at home in Middle Earth than she did at that moment. If she closed her eyes she was back home among her own friends. An immense feeling of joy blossomed in her chest, working its way up, until tears welled in her eyes and she struggled not to laugh. And though she had finished the song and the elves returned to their original songs, in her mind and heart she heard the clapping, wolf whistling, and shouting of her friends and family.

The smile refused to fall from her face and she turned to Thranduil happily.

"You've sung that song before, if I recall," he commented.

"It's a good one," she defended with a laugh. "It was written by one of the most famous musicians of my time."

"Are you yourself not a musician?" he asked with a raised brow.

"No," she snorted in a rather unladylike way, "I worked in a restaurant."

"A shame," he said.

"I could not agree with you more," she answered with a sigh. Though Thranduil had been speaking of her wasted talent she was only thinking of the years spent dealing with irritable and sometimes less than polite guests.

They fell silent, listening the singing of the woodland elves once more, taking comfort in each other's presence. Thranduil watched her sip her wine and return her gaze to the sky above before offering his arm to her.

"Will you join me?" he asked.

"Uh, sure," she mumbled and rested a hand on his arm hesitantly.

He smiled down at her and led her into the dense trees. They walked for a while in silence. The only sound that could be heard was their gentle and nearly nonexistent steps they took through the forest. It was nice. She was reminded of the times he had come to Rivendell and they had spent their days talking over her own time. Though, thankfully he was not pestering her as much as he used to. She assumed he had finally got his fill of information. That, or he was too engrossed in the starlight to think of anything but its soft glow. Katy let out a quiet sigh, finding that she herself was rather comforted by the stars. They moved through the trees for a handful of minutes before coming upon a truly grand and magnificent tree. It would take ten men with linked hands to fully wrap around it, it was so wide, and its branches hung only a few feet from the ground before reaching up into the sky. Thranduil guided her to the trunk, which had several arching and overlapping roots that acted as wooden steps leading into its branches. They climbed high into the tree, never once having to duck or crouch, and took a seat atop one of the thick branches, thick enough to support them easily.

"I used to bring Legolas out here when he was young," Thranduil said suddenly after several minutes of silence.

"Where is Legolas?" she asked as if she had suddenly realized his absence, which she had.

"I suspect he is with Tauriel," he answered flippantly.

She sensed that was a topic he would wish to avoid so she fell silent and turned her gaze to the stars, just able to be seen in a break in the canopy, and let out a sigh. She became lost in thought and swirled her goblet about absently but eventually she felt a warmth grow in her chest. She assumed it was because of the alcohol, as elvish wine was rather strong, but the warmth soon grew into an almost unbearable heat. She lifted a hand to her chest irritably and tried to calm her racing heart.

"What is wrong?" Thranduil asked, his brows scrunched together in concern at the panicked look on her face.

"I don't know," she shook her head. "It hurts."

"Perhaps it is the star," he offered thoughtfully. "I am sure it misses its kin." His eyes, sparkling in the low light, lifted from her to the sky wistfully before falling back down to her.

Katy nodded and rubbed at her chest sadly, she could feel tears of frustration prickling her lids, if she could let the star go she would have. Allowed it go back and join the ones it had not seen in thousands of years, but if she did that then the magic in the world would only be snuffed out later down the road like before. She felt selfish at the thought.

"It's not fair," she muttered.

"Peace, my friend," Thranduil said quietly and reached for her fisted hand. He held it within his own comfortingly.

She was shocked by the human gesture, physical contact to comfort, and glanced at his face curiously. He only watched her kindly.

"I never thought about it before," she began hesitantly, "But what do you think will happen when I fix everything? When my job is done? If the star leaves me . . .will I even survive?" She grew fearful at the thought and Thranduil tightened his grasp on her hand.

"I do not know Tinusell, stars are pure things, I do not think it would leave you so heartlessly." He let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, drawing her towards him.

Oh god, she thought, every fan girl in the existence of ever is going to hate me.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, insecurities and fears racing through her. She had never before thought that her quest would end in her death but now she understood that it could be a very real possibility. The image of that mountain lion slithered into her mind, the darkness of the forest around her suffocating, and she looked up at the stars desperately.

"I thought you never let fear stop you," Thranduil commented lightly.

She looked up at him sharply before smiling, "That is not one hundred percent accurate, but you're right. I could die any day, even back in my own time, I could be killed just stepping outside my door but it never stopped me." She bit at her thumbnail thoughtfully. "All things come to an end but it's our job to make the best of it." She was only trying to encourage herself, and it worked, but she missed the look of respect that flitted across the King's face.

Suddenly she snorted and he looked down at her curiously.

"Yolo!" she exclaimed.

"What?" he asked, confusion written between his brows.

"I regret nothing," she said, "It means you only live once and it is horribly overused and taken out of context in my time but I think it suits the situation." She knew her friends would be disgusted with her if they heard her saying the dumb phrase, but she could not resist the temptation, it was just too perfect. She enjoyed making their cultures clash in a vindictive sort of way.

She felt the tension ease in her chest and she let out a relieved sigh. It seemed laughter was the best medicine.

"You are a rather conflicted creature," he observed.

"Nobody's perfect," she defended.

"I would not say that," he responded somewhat aloofly and turned his face away.

"That makes you conceited, and therefore flawed," she pointed out, realizing that he was referring to himself.

"I do not know how to respond to that," he admitted with a mock expression of hurt.

She laughed. Everything he said, every expression he made, and every action he took was light and gentle. Even his playful side was so fleeting that she had trouble distinguishing if he was being serious or not. He was almost like a ghost, the way he floated through the world, or a gentle glow. Never blazing in pure joy or anger. But steady. She wondered if he had always been that way or if he cultured the mannerisms and façade over time. Many elves were reserved in their emtions, she knew, but she also knew quite a few who weren't. The twins came to mind, as did Glorfindel, even Erestor had a tendency to not laugh, but guffaw in amusement from time to time.

"I guess you're not so bad," she admitted.

"What a relief," he said.

The spent the rest of the night in that tree, talking of whimsical things, and when the suns rays began to bleed back into the sky they left to join the rest of the elves in the Great Hall where they would feast before ending the festival. But in the back of her mind she thought of the darker parts of Mirkwood, of the disgusting creatures that had nested in its depths, and wondered what could be done to fix it. She did not pay much attention to what was going on after that for her mind was preoccupied by the dwarve's fast approaching escape.

When she had eaten her fill she scampered back to her room where, curiously enough, she found a new tunic and a pair of breeches waiting for her. She briefly paused, wondering who would have done such a thing, before pulling on the maroon tunic. It split at her navel into four tails and the breeches came up to her waist. The clothes were cleary designed for a woman, she noted, before stepping into her boots and lacing them up. She left the dress laid out across the bed and threw her pack over her shoulder.

Guilt nagged at her. She had partaken in Thranduil's hospitality and yet she was running out on him. It honestly felt like she was the criminal in a one night stand. She felt she should leave him something, a note, or some kind of token so that he would know she meant no harm. But she had nothing to give, only her weapons and supplies she had brought along for the journey.

She fingered her locks absently and then paused. Struck by inspiration she dropped her bag and searched through it before pulling out a small dagger. Her hair was still braided and with a moment of hesitation she grabbed the braid and lifted the knife to it and pulled. The elvish blade was so sharp that it slid through her hair like butter and soon enough she held her braid within her fist, staring regretfully at it before she stood and placed it atop the white dress.

She ran her fingers through her curls, it had been years since she had had such short hair, and ruffled it about.

She slid the dagger into her belt and pulled her back over her shoulders once more before creeping out into the hall. All was quiet. Most of the elves were probably resting after the feast so she had a clear shot down to the cellars where she knew the dwarves would be gathering after they were freed by Bilbo. She glanced back into her room once, taking in the sight of the sunlight spilling across the stone floor and lighting the wooden furniture in a warm glow.

Her boots made no sound as she skated over the stone floors and flitted down the halls deep into the caverns. She came across a small staircase, enclosed by the wood of the great roots of trees that grew in the mountain, and heard the sound of hushed voices. They were rough and boisterous even in their attempt to be quiet and so she knew right away that she had come upon the right place.

She hurried down the steps and rushed into the cellars, finding the dwarves arguing with a very flustered hobbit. They all turned at her approach and fell silent.

"Hello," she greeted and made her way down another set of stairs before coming to a stop before them.

"You're alive?" Fili cried.

Katy smiled at him kindly, glad to see that he was in good spirits and happy to see her. He looked none the worse for wear other than a few strands of spider webs still clinging to his gold locks. She suppressed the shudder that threatened to take her at the memory of the monstrosities; she could still hear their rasping voices in her mind and just the memory was enough to tickle her ears and send a thrill of cold fear down her spine.

"How did you survive the fall?" Bofur questioned. He seemed amazed at her sudden reappearance and more than a little relieved. He felt that she and the wizard were the only two that really understood what was going on and yet they had lost both of them within a few days.

"The side I fell down was not so steep, a tree stopped my fall," she grimaced at the memory.

"And where have you been?" Thorin stepped forward through the group, staring at her wearily. He looked a little haggard after his stay in the dungeons. More so than the others, she noted, and a dark thought crept into her mind. Was he already being affected by dragon sickness? He had yet to set foot within the mountain itself but his eyes had grown dark and dull after his stay in Mirkwood.

She did not know how to answer him. If she admitted to enjoying the hospitality of the Mirkwood elves then Thorin would refuse her help in their quest, she knew. But what else would be expected of her when she herself was an elf? "I was hiding out in the forest," she answered. "I snuck in last night during the feast of starlight and ran into Bilbo who told me what was going on."

Bilbo stiffened, once again finding himself being dragged into an argument between the two, and hoped that Thorin would not turn to question him next. He was not good under pressure, at least not as good as Katy herself seemed to be, he could not spit out a lie as quickly and confidently as she could.

"And I suppose the forest gave you those clothes," Thorin shot back. His eyes lingered on her freshly cleaned tunic and breeches, noting the make and quality were of the highest quality. If it was one thing dwarves were good at it was knowing the worth of all things crafted by hand.

"No," she picked at her new tunic self-consciously, "I stole them."

"And healed your scars," he continued.

Katy lifted a hand to her cheek, struggling to fight the blush that threatened to rise, and scowled. "I am no mortal, I have magic of my own," she snapped. It was a lie but one she knew Thorin would not doubt. She may have once been human but she was certainly an elf now and gave off an air of etherealness of her own, though nowhere near as obvious as other elves.

"Ha, there you have it!" Balin exclaimed with a laugh. "Our lass has returned to us, Thorin, don't look a gift pony in the mouth." He was eager to dispel the growing tension in the group and to get a move on. He did not know how much longer it would be before their absence was noticed and his patience with Thorin's questioning was growing thin.

Thorin did not lose the weary look but he said no more on the subject and turned to his kin, "Do as Master Baggins says."

With that the dwarves clambered into the empty barrels, hefting each other into the higher ones, grumbling all the way.

Katy remained with Bilbo while he waited, counting to make sure everyone was safely tucked away, before moving for the lever that would release the trap door. He pulled it with great effort and turned to watch the door fall open and the barrels roll forward before falling into the river below. The dwarves cried out in surprise as they went.

She turned back to the stairs, hearing the hurried footsteps of who she assumed to be Tauriel, before spinning to face Bilbo, "Go!" she ordered.

The hobbit jumped to action while she reached for the lever and pulled it. On his way down the trap door he tripped, stumbled, and rolled off into the river. He hit the water with a splash and struggled to the surface, choking and spluttering. He was not too good at swimming; in fact, most hobbits could not swim at all. But he managed to fight his way to air, grasping onto the rim of a nearby barrel, and glanced back at the trap door expectantly.

Katy did not waste any time. As soon as Bilbo was clear she lurched into a run and threw herself through the closing door, barely making it in time. She felt her stomach scrape against the rough wood before she was free and falling into the river with a rather ungraceful flop. She had a moment of panic before her head popped above the surface and she took a gulp of air.

Ahead of her the dwarves had gathered by latching onto the rock on either side of the racing river but upon seeing both her and Bilbo safely floating in the water they let go. Katy latched onto the nearest barrel, following Bilbo's example, and they were swept away by the current.

She felt rather exposed without her own barrel, her sides scrapped up against the rock, and she wondered if Bilbo was suffering the same fate as her. She struggled to pull herself up further on the barrel, he sleeves sodden and trailing water. Bufor glanced over the side at her with a manic grin.

"Alright there lass?" he shouted over the roar of the river.

She spluttered, unable to speak through a mouthful of water, but nodded and waved him away.

He laughed.

From their right they could hear the shouting of enraged elves, fighting against the sound of the rushing water, and echoing through the caverns. Light poured into the caves from up ahead and Katy struggled to get a good look before they were suddenly dropping over a short fall. She threw her arms over the side of the barrel so as not to be dislodged and gave Bufor an apologetic look at taking up what little space he had. She glanced back over her shoulder in time to see Legolas step into the light and shout to the elf next to him who lifted a horn to his mouth. She cursed.

Far ahead she heard Thorin cry out in anger and she was just able to see over Bufor's hat that the river gate had been shut. Guards took their places on either side of the river, awaiting further orders as the barrels full of dwarves piled up against the metal gates. Thorin growled and grasped the bars between his hands.

Katy groaned, realizing she should have expected this, she had actually known of the events that would occur, but in the rush she had not thought ahead.

Above them, one of the guards cried out, drawing their eyes up to him as he fell over, a black arrow protruding from his back.

And just like that the river was overrun by orcs and elves, all fighting and shooting off arrows as if their lives depended on it, and in the madness Kili climbed out of his barrel and onto the steps that led up to the small bridge spanning the river. Soaking wet and tired beyond belief the young dwarf staggered to his feet and dodged under a passing orc, heading for the lever that would open the gates.

Katy, realizing what was about to happen, struggled towards shore. She let go of Bufor's barrel and nearly sunk below the surface with the weight of her bag, but managed to grab onto the next barrel choking and spluttering. She brushed her sopping hair out of her face and lunged for the stone steps, pulling herself onto the stairs, and stood. She reached for the dagger in her belt just as an orc came at her with his own, longer, blade.

She caught the sword on her knife just as he brought it down over her head. She pushed him off to the side and used his momentum as he fell towards her off balance, to drive the blade into his chest, and sent him sprawling into the water.

She turned, watching Kili as he scrambled towards the lever, and rushed after him. As she reached his side, he giving her no more than a cursorily glance, she spun to take in the surrounding area. She searched out the orc she knew would have a bow drawn and aimed at her friend and when she spotted him, across the river, she threw her dagger with all her might.

Despite her best efforts she was not in time. The arrow had already left his hold when her dagger lodged itself in his shoulder.

"Kili!" she cried out.

The arrow struck his leg, as she knew it would, and he staggered.

Deciding not to waste any more time she ran to the lever herself and pulled with all her might. She heard the gates creak and slide open before turning back to Kili who was struggling to his feet. She rushed to him, bent down and yanked the arrow from his leg, ignoring the cry of surprise and pain, and pulled him back to the water. He regained enough of his mind to jump for an empty barrel next to his brother before she followed after into the water and latched onto the side of the barrel.

With the gates open the company was rushed away by the river, passing under the bridge, and out into the open water. There was no rhyme or reason to it, they bumped and thudded against friend and foe, rock and tree, and all the while they were chased by hordes of orcs. Elves flitted through the trees, firing arrows and throwing blades, killing orcs as they went, yet trying to recapture their escaped prisoners. It was a hectic mess and Katy had no way of really making any sense out of it. Every few seconds she would be dunked under the water and have to fight her way back to the surface with a desperate grip on the side of Kili's barrel.

When she next came up for air, throwing her arms over the side of the barrel, Legolas nearly landed on her face. She had seen him jump for the barrel next to her in time to throw up a hand and catch his foot.

"Watch it!" She snapped.

"Tinusell?" he blanched, confused as to what she was doing with the dwarves, let alone clutching to the side of the barrel.

"No time," she shouted and released her hold on his foot, causing the elf to wobble back, pin wheeling his arms, before he leapt for the shore and regained his footing. "Tell the king I'm sorry!" she cried back to him as she passed, "I've got my own plans to see to!"

Legolas ran a few steps after her before coming to a stop, watching as she was lost amongst the rapids, before turning to gut an attacking orc. He had grown rather fond of the woman over the years and as she was pulled away by the river he worried for her and her safety but he would not deny much of his unease stemmed from how his father would take the news of her departure with their . . .guests.


End file.
